


Concessions

by whyamilike_this



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: But It's Messed Up In Other Ways, C137cest, Control Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Incest, M/M, Morty's Old Enough For Consent, Non-Consensual Bondage, Possessive Rick, Pretty Serious About the Bondage Guys, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamilike_this/pseuds/whyamilike_this
Summary: “What – what is this, some sort of bon-” he gasped when Rick yanked the leather a little snugger, “-bondage planet?” Morty’s voice cracked on the question and Rick’s hands slid over his shoulders to tighten the straps that met the belt across his chest in a V.“Oh, somebody’s seen some videos on the internet, huh Morty?” Rick’s teased, the bands tautening gradually. Morty felt irrationally like he was a mouse caught in the coils of a boa constrictor. “But to answer your question… kind of.”(Or the one where Rick shows his practiced hand in the art of control and Morty learns it's not just the leather keeping him tied to Rick.)





	Concessions

“Morty,” a raspy voice whispered in the dark. Morty groaned and turned over, rolling away from the rough hands trying to shake him awake. “Come on Morty, wake up,” the voice continued, a tinge of irritation turning the whisper into a hiss.

“ _x_ equals negative _b_ …” Morty sleepily rambled, half lifting an arm to swat the nuisance away.

“You little shit, come o – get – get out of bed.” Morty wasn’t given any warning before being bodily dragged from under the covers and pulled to his unsteady feet, Rick’s superior strength supporting his weight as he guided him out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

“…Rick?” Morty mumbled exhaustedly, no stranger to these late night visits but getting more annoyed with his forced stumbling passage through the dark house. Distantly he was grateful that seemingly Rick only wanted to drag him along on some adventure instead of hold a knife to his throat. But the old man had made a habit of stumbling up to Morty’s room and drunkenly rambling for a while before passing out with him in bed. Morty was a little disappointed he wasn’t getting off that easy tonight; he was desperate for the sleep and he’d gotten used to using Rick’s conked out snoring as a sort of white noise to lull him to sleep (mostly because if Rick was snoring he had to be _breathing_ and that was something he made sure to keep an ear out for when Rick drank himself to unconsciousness).

But now really wasn’t the time to go on an adventure. Between adventuring with Rick, clocking in his required masturbating time, and studying for the SATs, he’d been racking up a pretty significant sleep deficit. And considering the SATs were scheduled for tomorrow – a bleary-eyed glance at his grandpa’s wrist watch set the time at 2:48am – so actually the SATs were _that very day,_ in just a few hours, and he already regretted being so easily steered around the house.

But Rick’s firm grip on the back of his neck was impossible to ignore and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the two of them slipped quietly into the garage. “My test, Rick,” Morty pleaded as the old man somewhat roughly shoved him into the open door of his spaceship. Only clad in his boxers and yellow t-shirt, Morty fought off a shiver. “I’m not – I don’t have shoes on, Rick, and it’s the middle of the night…” he grumbled, well aware that at this point he was doing it more for formality’s sake than any belief that his complaints might actually change his situation. Rick got what he wanted. And what he wanted was, apparently, some late night trek into outer-fucking-space.

“You don’t need shoes,” Rick grunted before the ship shot up into the vast darkness of stars, Orion’s Belt the only distinguishable mass of lights before they broke the atmosphere. “Anyways,” Rick picked up the trail of his own thoughts, “I need – you gotta help your grandpa with something real quick. We’ll be back in a – _uuurp_ \- jiffy,” Rick slurred, and Morty finally felt awake enough to turn and take him in. Rick was concentrating hard on the star speckled black whizzing past the windshield, his arms a hard line from his shoulders to his hands gripping the steering wheel, but his eyes had that distant, not quite focused stare that meant he was a little past pleasantly buzzed and pushing into sloppy, chip-on-his-shoulder drunk.

That never boded well.

“Rick, I – I’ve got to go to school in the morning. There’s a really – it’s important I make it on time tomorrow,” Morty hedged, already all too aware how that statement was going to go over.

Rick cut him a bored look, one half of his eyebrow lifting. “ _Important,_ Morty? What can be happening in that glorified mundanity factory you call scho- _ooo_ -ol that qualifies as _important_?”

The ship slipped hard to the left when Rick leaned dramatically on the steering wheel and his elbow caught the edge of the handlebar. Morty automatically lunged for the wheel, spinning it back to center and glaring at Rick.

“Just - Let’s not be out too late, okay?” Morty settled for, rubbing at his upper arms and turning away from Rick’s burning blue gaze.

“Sure thing, _Moooorty_ ,” Rick sneered, condescension thick in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you to flunk out so close to _graduation_.” Morty tensed. _No he really didn’t_ want to flunk out when he was close enough to finishing high school he could practically taste the freedom. But he’d picked up a lot of his grades this year so the threat of failure felt a little less imminent. Still… he was aiming for at least a 3.0 which would be _a miracle_ considering his first three years of fucking off really added up, but he’d settle for a 2.5. Yeah, he could probably work with a 2.5…

The space shift rattled familiarly as they passed a hail of asteroids that Rick disinterestedly steered them through.

When the silence started to feel oppressive, Morty piped up, “So what – where are we going Rick. What’s so important it can’t wait until daylight hours.”

“We’re in space, Morty. No hours are ‘daylight hours’ out here. Time is meaningless and allowing the circadian rhythm to dictate your life is just a waste of your scant few moments as a slightly more intelligent hunk of meat.”

 _Okay_ so it was going to be one of _those_ trips. Cool. Morty rolled his eyes and turned his shoulder to Rick, concentrating on the asteroids zooming past his window. He was almost surprised when Rick sighed and answered, “We’re going to pick up some corzonite from a place on β-083.”

“What do you need the corzonite for?” Morty asked, a little afraid the follow up question would earn him another sharp retort, but he watched the reflection of Rick in the window turn to frown at Morty’s back. Morty could practically feel the heat of his gaze on his shoulder so he crossed his arms, and curled his knees against his chest. 

“Science stuff, obviously,” Rick scoffed, running an aggravated hand through his wild hair and whipping the space ship hard to the left. Morty swayed limply with the motion, far too used to Rick’s erratic driving to be taken by surprise.

A small red and silver planet expanded before them through the windshield, a swirl of dramatic spiraling clouds shielding the surface from view. Morty leaned forward, interested despite himself, as the ship cut into the wild curl of mist. Wind and fine white sand pounded the glass. Rick’s grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled as they jolted and wobbled their way down to the planet’s surface with the finesse of a rock hitting glass. Right when Morty was starting to question whether the increasingly loud groans the ship was coughing out were something to be worried about, they slipped below the storm into calm clear skies.

“W-woah,” Morty stuttered out and Rick’s gruff approving chuckle eased some of his tension. 

“See, halfway over already,” Rick shot him a warm look and Morty grinned a little back. The planet was small, hardly more than a moon really, and the sole item of interest blotting its surface was a strange blocky fortress made of the same dark grey material of the ground. Surrounding the fortress was a stretch of dark land occupied by various fancy looking space ships before the terrain sprouted into vivid red plant life that circled the planet. The ship bypassed the fortress and sailed low over a crimson forest until Rick spotted a clearing big enough to land the ship, long dark branches scratching at the hull and making Morty wince.

“Wha – Rick, it looked like they had a parking lot or something, why not – why didn’t you set the ship down over there?”

Rick had already unbuckled his seatbelt and slithered his lean body into the backseat, shoulders hunched as he dug around under the cushions. “This is a bit of a st- _eeaarp-_ ealth mission, Morty. We’ve got to sneak in undetected.” Morty wrung his hands, unease building in his chest. “And to do that, we need disguises… ah-ha!”

He yanked out a somewhat crumpled looking black suit jacket, digging around in the pockets to yank out a black tie. He tossed them both into the unoccupied driver’s seat and Morty held up the jacket in fascination. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit,” he mused aloud, and Rick scoffed.

“The amount of things you haven’t seen…” he trailed off, shucking his lab coat down his arms and pulling his sweater and tank top off in one fluid yank. Morty watched with half-interest, suppressing a yawn as Rick buttoned up a white collared shirt over the thin stretch of lean stomach. Then he was unbuckling his pants and Morty turned away fast when he realized his grandpa was apparently going _commando_ underneath his khakis. When he heard a reassuring zip and Rick’s long arm snatched up the jacket from his seat, he turned back in time to watch Rick shrug it on with a casualty that belied how unfamiliar it was to see the man dressed in a suit. 

Morty took a moment to appreciate how _mature_ it made him look. Not in the same way that Rick’s wrinkled features and blue-grey hair expressed his age. No, he looked… respectable maybe? Unapproachable. _Dangerous..._ As Rick knotted the tie around his neck with practiced ease and slotted Morty with a flat, hard look, Morty thought the dark colors and the serious aura of the suit made the man wearing it look that much more feral for trying to blend in. Morty’s stomach flopped a little bit and he ran his dry tongue over his bottom lip. What was Rick getting him into?

“What about me, Rick? Do - do I get a suit?” he asked, hating his stutter more than ever. Somehow the apathetic, sloppy scientist he spent most of his time with was gone, replaced by some intimidating man in a well-tailored suit, eyes frost blue against black. The thought was only cemented as Rick ran his long fingers through his hair, pushing the wild locks back into a slightly more subdued sweep. 

“Of a sort,” Rick answered and Morty swallowed hard, the old man’s eyes tracking the nervous movement.

After one last adjustment to his tie, Rick tucked his flask into his breast pocket and resumed digging around behind the backseat, grumbling as he did so. The sight of Rick’s long body stretched out in a suit was distracting enough that when Rick tossed something over his shoulder at him, it smacked Morty in the face and fell into his lap.

It was small, not nearly suit sized and for a half a second Morty wondered if he was looking at some sort of hat before his fingers found the right corners to hold up and he blushed fuchsia. “W-w-w-what?!” he stammered out, staring at horror at the black leather _thong_ he held up in front of himself. “ _RICK!_ ” his voice was shrill. “You can’t expe – are you serious?”

Rick glared at him over the backseat, eyes searing like hot metal. “Yes, _Morty_ , but not yet. First comes…” he leered at Morty with slightly crooked teeth as his outstretched fingers made contact with what he’d been searching for. “Got it,” he said triumphantly and held up what looked like a variety of leather belts.

Morty heart started to pound in earnest, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

“Come here,” Rick said calmly, grabbing Morty’s arm and tugging him into the back, balancing Morty on his skinny knees.

Morty fought hard against the panic attack bubbling in his gut, but placidly let Rick tug him onto his lap, trusting Rick, despite the screaming in his head that told him not to. “R-R-R-Rick, I don’t know about this,” he stammered, but cool hands were already sliding up his sides underneath his shirt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you out, buddy. Arms up,” Rick quietly commanded. Morty repressed a shiver and obeyed, the fabric sliding over his head and dropping to the grubby, sticky floor of the ship.

When Rick lifted the mess of belts over Morty’s head, Morty’s heart starting pounding in earnest. He fought off the urge to paw at the black leather Rick quietly arranged over his shoulders and under his arms, the old man humming quietly to himself off key. One long strap trailed down the center of Morty’s chest and he gulped when a metal ring swung against the fabric of his boxers at about the height of his genitals. 

“Aw, jeez Rick, I – I really don’t know about this,” Morty stuttered, hands lifting to fiddle with the metal ring. “Is this really necessary?”

“It’s _extremely_ necessary,” Rick snapped, slapping at Morty’s hand until he dropped the ring and braced himself with a hand on each front seat. “Now shu- _uurp_ -t up, Morty. Everything’s fine.”

Morty knew what this was. He had spent _a lot_ of time alone with his computer and his hand. He had explored just about every fetish the internet threw his way and he also had a peripheral unpursued knowledge of some of Rick’s _… preferences_ (he’d seen the pictures and they had practically burned themselves into his memory). But being strapped into a _body harness_ by his _grandfather_ surpassed even the wildest and most disturbing predictions that had flickered across his mind when Rick dragged him out of bed less than an hour ago. 

Rick’s long cool fingers made fast work of the belt that wrapped around his chest, just below his pecks (or what _would_ be pecks if he wasn’t still embarrassingly scrawny), tugging the buckle tight against his spine and suddenly Morty’s gasping breaths felt a little restricted. 

“What – what is this, some sort of bon-” he gasped when Rick yanked the leather a little snugger, “-bondage planet?” Morty’s voice cracked on the question and Rick’s hands slid over his shoulders to tighten the straps that met the belt across his chest in a V. 

“Oh, somebody’s seen some videos on the internet, huh Morty?” Rick’s teased, the bands tautening gradually. Morty felt irrationally like he was a mouse caught in the coils of a boa constrictor. “But to answer your question… kind of.” Sitting on Rick’s lap and determinedly not making eye contact, he felt the old man shrug more than saw it.

Rick’s fingers skimmed down the center strap down his back until he met another belt. Rick’s suit clad arms suddenly came into view, wrapping around from behind him to fasten another belt around his waist at about belly button height. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?” Morty tried not to gulp as Rick lopped the long end through the center strap and fastened the metal clasp _tight_ against the spasming muscles of his stomach. Probably tighter than it needed to be. Morty squirmed and Rick’s cool hand smoothed over the buckle and the surrounding skin.

“‘ _Kind of_ ’” Rick mocked in an aggravated voice, “in an Eye’s Wide Shut, wealthy-elite, fetish-brothel kind of way.” Rick’s fingers were following the lines of black leather checking for give, tightening up any loose space he found, and the words were practically rasped straight into Morty’s ear. Rick’s voice, deep and dark and rough with liquor, sent a wave of heat straight down to his stomach which flopped again uncomfortably against the tight bondage.

Then Rick’s hands were at his waist, leveraging him up to stand on his feet and shoving him out the passenger side door. Morty was thrilled to escape the heated confines of the ship, his skin already slick with anxious sweat, and the slightly cool air of the red forest was refreshing. His relief was short lived when Rick unfolded himself from the car like a wraith and raked his eyes across skin and leather.

“Shorts down,” he demanded, one long finger pointing in his direction and sweeping down in an instructive gesture. Morty clamped his hands instinctively over his junk. 

“What! No way!” he squealed (immediately regretting the tone of his voice but too anxious to feel the true sting of embarrassment) but Rick’s hot eyes bore down on him while he casually adjusted the cuffs of his jacket.

“If you’re shy, you can turn around,” he answered apathetically, and Morty scrabbled momentarily at the lowest belt before Rick’s bigger hands locked over his in a steely grip. “Morty,” Ricks voice was dark with warning, “We aren’t leaving here without the corzonite. We can do this the fast way where we go in, we get out, and you get to keep _s-_ oou- _ome_ of your dignity.” Morty shifted his weight from one foot to the other and Rick’s grip tightened. “ _Oooooor_ we can do this the shitty way where-in you are a whining pain-in-my-ass and make this harder than it needs to be, in turn making this whole _evening_ longer than it needs to be, and prolonging your own discomfort.” He released Morty’s hands before fishing out his flask and unscrewing the lid. “Either way, you’re putting this harness on.” He took a long pull and swallowed heavily, adam’s apple bobbing.

Morty blushed furiously and clenched his fists, fighting the urge to unbuckle himself from the harness that he already loathed, glaring back at Rick. “You’re a – you’re some real sick pervert, aren’t you Rick,” he said wrathfully, turning around yanking down his boxers, distressed to see that the metal ring did _in fact_ line up perfectly with his slightly thickening dick. 

“You caught me Mo- _eeeeurp-_ orty,” Rick answered, voice slick with sarcasm. Rick’s outstretched hand appeared and Morty reluctantly shoved his boxers at it. “Seeing my scrawny _bitch_ of a grandson all trussed up really floats my boat.” 

Morty tried to center himself with the thought that Rick had seen him naked a million times before. Just like he’d seen Rick in every possible state of nudity, ranging from just-got-out-of-the-shower naked to covered-in-blood naked to very-recently-sexed naked. He’d even seen Rick in a get-up not too different from this on more than one occasion. So Morty had nothing to be shy about. It was just a body and it didn’t even always feel like _his._

There was rustling behind Morty before Rick’s hands brushed the backs of his thighs, spreading his legs further apart with a little push and grabbing at the strap that dangled down Morty’s front. “Now sho – tuck your junk through the metal loop, Morty.”

Face and neck so hot Morty was sure he was about to burst into flames, he again followed his grandpa’s orders and wrestled his dick and balls through the loop, his own hand grazing the tender flesh sending pleasure laced with an oil slick of shame through his body. 

“You got it Morty?” Rick asked, his voice borderline soothing, clearly trying to be supportive. 

“Uhh… yeah,” Morty responded, humiliated beyond what he ever imagined possible. 

“Good boy,” Rick answered, and _whoops_ turned out he _could_ be morehumiliated because the condescending praise rasped out in Rick’s familiar voice made his half-chub twitch in interest. He told himself that it was more likely the way Rick was tugging the length of the strap back along his cleft and connecting it to a buckle at the small of his back, cold steady hands pulling the slack taut, the leather pressing tightly against his hole.

When Rick finished fiddling with the buckle, he turned Morty around, the teenager having the where-with-all to tuck his thickening cock into his hands, shielding it from view. Rick scanned him from head to toe in one dark look, buckled the strap bellow his belly one notch tighter, and stood, dusting the gray dirt from his knees. 

Rick curled back into the ship, tossing the leather thong over his shoulder at Morty. “Not protesting _that_ anymore, are you?” Rick cackled a bit before diving into the backseat again. Morty tugged the thin scrap of leather up his legs, resenting the bubble of gratefulness that swelled in him as he tucked his dick away. It _was_ a relief to find out he wasn’t going to be free-ballin’ it. For a few minutes he had forgotten how all this started, and he hated himself for the momentary urge to _thank_ Rick for providing this one ounce of privacy.

While Rick dug distractedly in the backseat, Morty ran his hands over the harness binding his torso. It was on _tight_. It wasn’t like it restricted his movements he realized as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weigh, but the feeling of being bound was inescapable. And the reflection of himself glinting in the ship’s window was a strange sight. 

Morty was _small_ after all. Thinness made his limbs look long, like his grandpa, but he hadn’t grown much since Rick had come into his life nearly four years ago. Weird thing was, other Morties weren’t nearly as short. Sure, they tended to range in size more than you’d think considering they were iterations of the same-ish person, the results of some genetic lottery that Morty wasn’t likely to understand anytime soon. But even still, the other Morties he’d come across in the last year or so stood closer to Rick in height, at least their eye level passing Rick’s shoulder.

But Morty hadn’t grown very much at all. Not since he’d had some sort of spurt at sixteen gaining maybe a few inches. His mom had noticed it, called attention to it one morning when he was leaning over Rick working diligently in the garage, and Morty hadn’t missed the sly, thoughtful look Rick had squinted up at him with. That hard, calculating look never meant anything good. 

A few days later he got one of his regular space-virus inoculations from Rick and… well, Morty couldn’t _prove_ that Rick had done something to keep him from getting any taller, but he certainly thought about it a lot. It wouldn’t surprise him at least, and maybe that was telling enough. After all, Rick liked being in control, in charge, _unmistakably superior_ to Morty in every possible way. And staring down his nose at him from on-high seemed to be something Rick took particular pleasure in.

But then again, maybe Morty was just natually a shrimp and projecting his problems onto Rick was just another toxic habit he needed to quit. 

Morty glared at his reflection in the glass. He wasn’t big or muscular like the guys he normally saw wearing these sorts of harnesses and he felt extra stupid for being able to make the comparison. He wasn’t some fucking gladiator/herculean god, tan and greased up and bearded. He was just a scrawny Morty, the bondage almost superfluous for how weak the body being restrained. 

Rick interrupted his reverie by climbing out of the ship again, leather with flashes of silver gripped between his hands. “ _More_?” Morty whined as Rick beckoned him forward with a wave. The older man raised one side of his eyebrow but otherwise didn’t acknowledge Morty’s question. “Why am _I_ the one in bondage?” he tried again as Rick wrapped a thick collar around Morty’s neck. Thick enough that Morty had to readjust his posture, lengthen his neck to keep the top edge from digging into the bottom of his neck. “Aren’t you the one who’s – aren’t you into this stuff?”

A smirk curved the edges of Rick’s lips. “Don’t think I haven’t been in your position before. Bi- _eeer_ -rdman and I ran this job _decades_ ago. So believe me when I say I know how this feels.” His nible fingers latched the two buckles at the front of Morty’s throat and he was grateful, insanely grateful, that he didn’t pull the straps nearly as taut as he had the ones on the harness. He could still breathe comfortably. He’d been _very_ worried. And as he lifted his hands to feel the smooth leather, there was enough slack that he could adjust the slightly curved edges to better align with his collar bones.

Rick watched him fuss with it while he took another swig from his flask, his eyes never leaving Morty’s flushed face. 

Once the flask was back in his breast pocket, Rick snatched up a hand still fiddling with the collar and wound a smaller cuff studded with D-rings around his wrist. Apparently he was back to fastening the buckles on as tight as possible without constricting blood flow because once a strap circled each wrist, Morty couldn’t help but wrap his fingers around the leather, trying to spin the cuff, but it was cinched against his skin, the leather fusing to his sweaty wrist and refusing to budge. 

Rick watched Morty’s experimentations with heavy lidded eyes, his tongue darting out to swipe at the spittle on his lip.

“Okay, enough fiddling Mo- _oourp_ -oorty,” Rick said, voice dark, and then Morty was turned around again, both his wrists gathered in one of Rick’s hands. There was a soft clinking snap noise and then his cuffs were attached to each other. 

“R - Rick?!” Morty gasped, surprised and scandalized that Rick hadn’t given him any warning. If he had been warned, he could have scratched his itchy nose and pushed the hair out of his eyes but despite the semi-desperate twists and tugs, the cuffs were latched together tight.

“Calm down, don’t get yourself all wo- _oourp_ -rked up,” was Rick’s response, his slightly ragged breathing stirring the hairs on the back of Morty’s head. Then Rick’s hands were at the back of his collar and Morty’s fingers felt another trailing piece of leather before his bound hand were pulled up higher along his spine, no longer crossed at the natural place where the fell at the small of his back but side by side at the base of his rib cage.

“Rick…” Morty half moaned, half whined, and the old man’s fingers trailed from his shoulders to his elbows, seemingly taking in his handiwork.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Rick answered soothingly, hands rubbing up and down his arms again. “So good for grandpa.” Morty bit back the groan those words had ratcheted up his throat. God, what was _wrong_ with him? Rick’s voice shouldn’t be making him _horny_ but the combination of his rough voice and being so physically helpless with a man who had all the conceivable power in the universe was stirring up something dark in the pit of Morty’s stomach. He unconsciously clenched his ass, his hips subtly twitching forward uselessly.

“Sit down Morty,” Rick ground out, his voice rumbling, and Morty didn’t think to question the demand, plopping his mostly bare ass down into the battered passenger seat. Before he could tuck his legs into the ship however, Rick knelt down again and caught one ankle in his larger hand. Morty was momentarily distracted by the way Rick’s fingers encircled his entire ankle, thumb and forefinger overlapping as he tugged Morty’s foot onto his lap. Then, _surprise surprise_ , Rick was buckling leather cuffs around his ankles. “Just about set,” Rick murmured deeply and Morty found that his dazed nod was greatly limited by the collar around his neck.

For lack of something better to do, Morty scrabbled at his wrist restraint as best he could. He couldn’t quite reach where they locked together, but if he really twisted, he could probably reach the buckles that fastened them to his wrist. The thought was reassuring. He was _probably_ safe with Rick, or at least he really _really_ hoped he was, but years of adventures had taught Morty the hard way that his grandpa was a little less than dependable.

Then again, _that_ grandpa never wore a crisp suit and tie. Honestly, Morty was starting to question whether that was _a thing_ for him because it was hard to see the serious looking man kneeling in front of him as the same insane septuagenarian that routinely endangered his life.

Rick reached into his pocket and a chain clinked into his hand, slithering out of the dark suit insidiously. Morty swallowed, his mouth desperately dry, and watched as Rick linked one end of the chain to a D-ring on his right ankle… Morty’s brain fuzzed out for a second and he didn’t quite catch Rick attaching his other ankle until the small chain, probably less than a foot long, stretched between his two feet.

He stared at his hobbled feet for a moment before forcing himself to raise his eyes to Rick. The look Rick was searing into him was cloying, it wrapped him up so tight his lungs had a hard time sucking in the air he needed to breathe - or maybe that was all the leather straps.

As if reading his mind, Rick grabbed him by the harness and hauled him to his feet, catching him when the short chain linking his feet made him stumble. “Steady there, Morty,” Rick rasped against the shell of his ear and Morty twitched in a whole body shiver. “You have to make it look convincing.” Then Rick was pulling him forward, two long fingers looped through a ring at the front of Morty’s collar, starlight eyes burning into him. Morty’s feet shuffled to keep up. 

“I feel – I think I look kind of ridiculous, Rick,” Morty muttered, sure his cheeks would be pink for the rest of his life, eyes steadfastly locked onto the arm pulling him in a small circle leading back to the ship, Rick’s gaze too bright and hot to meet.

Rick huffed out a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what you think, Morty,” he said decisively, turning Morty and pressing his hips and stomach against the ship, the weight of Rick’s body pinning him from behind, further confining his useless hands. “In fact, do- _ooourp_ -n’t think at all. Follow my orders and don’t fuck around or make a mess of things. Should be a little harder this time at least,” Rick snickered, pulling on the strap that fastened his wrists to his collar. 

“I don’t – Rick, come on, you know I don’t m-mess up on purpose,” Morty frowned, the burn of tears threatening in the back of his nose, Rick’s weight shifting away from him. He was no longer pinned to the ship but he stayed put, mostly to prove a point. “A-and you can’t leave me this time, okay Rick?” When Rick didn’t answer, he turned (a move he had to do more with his shoulders than his neck thanks to the high collar) and scowled at Rick who was half leaned into the ship again. “You can’t… you can’t truss me up and bail on me, you hear?” Morty half shouted, his voice going squeaky like it did when he got anxious.

A bemused looking Rick grinned at him as he straightened to tower over Morty. “Also not gonna be a problem this time,” Rick sing-songed a little too smugly for Morty to feel any real comfort. 

“Promise me,” Morty ordered, knowing entirely too well how little Rick’s promises really meant. But he had to hear it. Had to cling to it. His hands twisted uselessly behind his back and he pouted.

Rick clicked something into the ring at the front of his collar, _a leash_ Morty realized belatedly, and he groaned through an eye roll, Rick practically radiating glee.

“I promise. Now comes the hard part,” Rick’s wiry arms boxed Morty against the glass again and Morty cringed. 

“T-this wasn’t the hard part?” he asked, trying to tilt his shoulders back to see Rick’s face but something entered his field of vision first. Something red and round and gingerly cradled in Rick’s ashen fingers. “Wha-” but he was cut off suddenly when the red ball was pressed forcibly into his mouth. A muffled startled noise got caught on rubber as Rick firmly pressed it deeper into his mouth, until his teeth opened up wide enough for the ball to slot behind them.

“There we go,” Rick rasped behind him, voice a dark mahogany stain. Straps circled Morty’s head, dug into his cheeks. Rick made quick work attaching it, pulling it tight enough that Morty’s hair snagged in the buckle, his indignant noise garbled by the gag.

Morty tongued the intrusion furiously, working to expel it from his mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. Rick tugged him around, one hand on the lead dangling from his collar and the other skimming fingers over the place where the ball gag met Morty’s teeth. The dark glint of victory burned in Rick’s molten blue eyes and Morty did his best to glare back at him defiantly. 

“None of that now, Morty,” Rick whispered, a dangerous leer bearing his yellowing teeth. This close, Morty could smell the sharp bite of alcohol on his breath. “Can’t be _too_ defiant. It’ll raise suspicion.”

Morty briefly struggled against Rick’s hold, shaking his head as best he could despite his collar, trying to dislodge the gag but the smile on Rick’s face only grew more cheshire-like. He grabbed Morty by the chin and swept his loose bangs back into place away from his forehead in some bastardized display of gentleness. Morty hated the way that tenderness – even theatrical and artificial – sent a heated wave of arousal straight to his confined dick.

When Morty finally stilled, no more to show for his struggling than a new wave of exhaustion, Rick’s smile softened into something that hurt Morty’s heart to look at. “There we go,” Rick hummed again, running his hand through Morty’s hair again and curving an open hand around his side. “I’ve got you, baby, grandpa’s got you,” he soothed and Morty breathed hard through his nose, the sting of tears building in his eyes unexpected and greatly unwanted. 

“…-ick,” Morty tried calling his name, drool pooling in the bottom of his mouth, hating the pathetic garbled sound that filtered through the gag and ten times closer to crying but Rick seemed to understand, stroking his face and wiping at the wetness that slipped out of his eyes.

“Shhh, shh,” Rick hushed him, eyes fever bright and restless, the way they got when he was strung out on uppers, and Morty felt another wave of helpless fear wash over him at the thought that Rick might be _high._ “Now’s the easy part, Morty.” Rick wiped away the new trail of tears and tugged him forward by the leash, leading him to the open passenger side door. He guided Morty into the seat, strong hands wrapped around shoulders, and knelt to manhandle Morty’s bound feet into the space below the dash. He buckled the seatbelt over Morty’s mostly naked chest, the sensation strange and constricting, before gently closing the door and dashing around the ship to climb in the driver’s seat.

Morty was sure he looked pathetic. He _felt_ pathetic. But that didn’t stop him from cutting pleading eyes to Rick, burying as many thoughts as he could in his look since he couldn’t voice them out loud. 

He wanted the stupid gag out of his mouth. He wanted to be untied. He wanted to be back in his bed at home, asleep, his biggest worry the SATs he had to sit for tomorrow and whether Jessica might say hi to him at lunch afterwards.

He wanted to have some semblance of control over his life, the promise that he wouldn’t be woken in the middle of the night and dragged out of bed, the agency to go to school when he wanted, the comfort of parents who cared where he went and when he came back.

He wanted to have rational feelings and crushes on girls and a cell phone full of phone numbers that didn’t belong to the four members of his immediate family.

Rick gave Morty’s knee one reassuring squeeze before gunning the ship upwards, red foliage dragging against the glass before they hit the sky. “It’s not so bad, Morty,” Rick trailed leadingly in his most supportive, calming voice. “I’m right here, buddy. And the worst part is over. We’ll be in and out of there fast, yo- _ooouu_ -u’ll see. It’ll take us longer to get you out of that gear than to get what we came here for…” he trailed off fast when Morty’s shoulders started heaving, the breath coming hard and fast out of his nose. “Woah, ca – hey, calm down, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Morty was sure Rick must be crazy if he thought that was any kind of reassurance.

“Listen Morty, h-here’s the plan: We get in and we socialize-” Rick raised his voice to speak over Morty’s indignant groaning, “-WE SOCIALIZE to the _bare minimum degree,_ then we sneak away to a ‘private room,’ grab the corzonite, smuggle it out, and make out like fucking kings.” At Morty’s teary-eyed death glare, Rick clammed up a bit, reaching out to squeeze Morty’s shoulder and frowning when Morty pulled away.

The flight to the fortress was over in a blink, Morty keeping his eyes trained desperately out the window with some frantic hope that they’d be shot out of the sky and he’d die in a fiery inferno before he had to enter a public space on _his grandfather’s leash_ (something that he realized with sudden clarity was actually standard practice, only usually a little more metaphorical), but when the ship sank down next to what Morty could only assume was some sort of valet stand, Morty accepted that his near panic attack wasn’t going to convince Rick to cut the job short. With a deep stuttering breath, Morty did his best to calm his racing heart.

Because, god, in a million ways, wasn’t this exactly what he should have expected? How was this any better than taking pills that shut down his kidneys or being used as collateral in some alien casino or being dragged all over the universe just to function as some fucking neurological shield? 

Sometimes… sometimes Morty was fairly sure that Rick cared about him - at least a little bit. But then he’d go and do something like this.

Morty sighed (or started to before the action threatened to push the collected drool out over his lip) and reminded himself that even if his grandfather sometimes acted like he cared about him _(a little bit, some of the time)_ Rick had _always_ made it very clear that Morty was meant to be a tool at his disposal. The bondage he was in now wasn’t even the most damning proof of that fact; a depressing truth Morty actively didn’t evaluate too long or too hard.

Whatever the case was, by the time Rick brushed off the alien valet (who actually looked to be two small olive green _somethings_ standing on each other’s shoulders) and opened the passenger side door, Morty had bolstered his courage. He would trust Rick. He sort of _had_ to trust Rick. And Morty could be a useful sidekick. Rick didn’t drag him all around the universe _just_ because of his stupid brainwaves. He had proven himself before, time and time again, and he was going to fucking _shame_ Rick with how competent he could be, even tied up.

So when Rick unbuckled his seatbelt and dragged him to his feet with a grip around his upper arm (much less gentle than he’d been putting him in), Morty met his gaze once, giving him the most heated, determined eye-contact he could manage when he was sure the gag distorted his face ridiculously. Rick’s slow, mean smile meant that he must have gotten the message, and he smoothed a possessive hand across Morty’s shoulder blades before turning to the valet. “She takes care of he- _eerup-_ erself,” he said, slamming the door closed before the two creatures could climb inside. At the door slam, the ship lifted off and settled itself quite neatly in a parking space towards the edge of the lot. Rick flipped two coins expertly over his shoulder. “I’m paying you _not_ to touch.”

The steps up to the entrance were a bit of a challenge with Morty’s ankles tethered together and with Rick steering him forwards with a grip on his collar ring, but he caught sight of two female-ish looking aliens being led down the stairs ahead of them and both of them were doing it in heels so high and pointy they actually scared Morty, so he figured he should be grateful for his bare feet.

The doorway was surprisingly utilitarian, and whatever he had been expecting when Rick had told him this place was pretty much a sex club, it wasn’t the airport security-esque set up that awaited them through the first set of thick doors. 

“Him first,” a huge zerillian grumbled and gestured to Morty without even looking at him, but Rick glared at the alien in response. Keeping a tight grip on Morty’s leash, he emptied his pockets into a little tray and slapped it down on the conveyor belt with as much ‘fuck-you’ laced in the gesture Rick could manage.

The zerillian rolled his three eyes, either used to the high and mighty routine or completely disinterested, and held a sweeping hand towards a slightly more complicated looking metal detector. Rick dropped Morty’s short leash and prodded him forward with a shove between his shoulder blades. Morty shuffled the few steps through it alone, uncomfortably aware of how much he already wanted Rick’s hand back on him as a safety line. 

Whatever the machine was supposed to detect, it buzzed when Morty went through. The zerillian didn’t look surprised and instead waved a plastic wand in the space around his body. The wand chirped at his collar, at his wrist cuffs, at his ankle cuffs, and confusingly enough at his crotch. The put-upon guard sighed through his nose and lifted a thick fingered hand to paw at the small leather thong holding in the last of Morty’s dignity. The noise that whined out of the back of Morty’s throat as he took a faltering sidestep was cut short by Rick’s arms wrapping around his shoulders and swatting the larger alien’s hand away. The relief of being pressed against Rick’s chest was short lived though, because a moment later Rick was yanking down the waistband of the thong enough to display the metal ring circling his genitalia and just a peek of the base of his dick. Morty reared in Rick’s hold, unsure whether the zerillian’s bored look was comforting or offensive as he muttered, “He’s good, step aside.” Rick readjusted the thong, his cold hands almost cupping him through the leather sending a distressing wave of heat to his extremities.

Morty was left to stand to the side as Rick backtracked through the scanner. On this end, Morty could see the guard’s screen. On it; a somewhat blurry Rick-shaped blob and a whole mess of fuzzy glowing yellow along all his limbs, near his heart, and where an eye would be.

“Had a bit of work done, eh?” the zerillian grumbled and Rick smirked, cocky and condescending.

Morty’s brain struggled to follow Rick’s response because… _what?!_

Okay, yeah, it made sense Rick had some replacement parts. Morty had been hurt pretty bad on a good amount of adventures. Many of those injuries Rick had warned him about very specifically, something that, now that Morty thought about it, might mean that Rick had made those exact mistakes before. But Rick always had some serum to organically fix his broken legs or patch the hole in his hand or _whatever_ it was that went wrong.

And yeah, okay, so his mom had once asked Rick about how his arm was doing, but when Morty had glanced at Rick, the skin had been normal and unbroken, his fleshy hand outstretched and demanding a screw driver with little ‘gimme’ motions. Morty had shrugged it off, Rick had shrugged it off, and his mom had grumbled something about not asking again next time her father got his arm ripped off…

His dad had also once warned Morty to watch out for Rick’s ‘transformer arm’ but well, his dad wasn’t the most reliable source. 

And, now that he thought about it, Rick was in his seventies but Morty had never seen another seventy year old look half as good or move half as fast as Rick could and the man was actively trying to kill himself with his vices. Morty had spent most of their relationship thinking he was somewhere in his fifties until Summer pointed out that mathematically that didn’t make sense. There was just something about Rick that was oddly… _ageless._

Sometimes Morty laid awake at night and wondered how long Rick had left, ruling out how many creatures wanted him dead or how many dangerous situations he put himself in or the ever present possibility of suicide. Just… how long could his heart keep beating and his cells keep reproducing and his liver keep processing the amount of alcohol he consumed? Probably not long. Healthy people who made good decisions capped out around one-hundred. That gave Rick less than thirty years and, well, Rick wasn’t a _healthy_ person. So at most Morty would be in his forties… 

Morty’s forties were a long way away. And there was a part of him (half-naïve and half-fatalistic) that didn’t really believe Rick _could_ die. That didn’t really believe Rick was even _aging_ the way he should be. 

But… Morty had never seen his grandpa made of anything but skin. Even his eyes - apparently one being cybernetic - looked exactly the same, two ice blue, red rimmed, bulbous orbs.

Speak of the devil, those two bottomless eyes swept over to Morty before lowering as he mumbled something else to the zerillian patting down his arms and legs. Morty couldn’t quite keep the curious look off his face as Rick was finally given the all clear and the old man wound his hand around Morty’s lead. With a glance around at the mostly empty, clinical-looking foyer, Morty mumbled, “-inse wen ar -ou a cybwor-?” trying his hardest to enunciate around the gag. A bit of spit finally escaped his furious efforts not to drool and Morty blushed when Rick followed the drip with scientific scrutiny.

Rick raised one half of his eyebrow. “I ha- _aaarp-_ ave no idea what you’re saying,” he deadpanned and Morty narrowed his eyes at him.

“-Es –ou oo,” he grumbled back after doing his best to swallow his spit. It was surprisingly hard with the gag in his mouth, something the porn he’d seen hadn’t prepared him for.

“No I don’t.” Rick straightened his tie at the foot of another set of stairs. 

Morty’s eye’s sparkled in triumph. “-Es –ou oo! –Ou jdus anherd –ee!”

Rick distractedly ran his hands over the straps of the harness, seemingly rechecking all the fastenings. “You don’t know _everything_ about me, obviously Moooorty.” Wasn’t that an understatement? “And it would probably be smart to cut down on the noise in there, cause you’re supposed to be a meek little submissive.”

Five low cut steps led to a white double door flanked by two krootabulans in tuxedos. As Rick approached confidently, a long fingered hand pressing against the top of Morty’s spine, the aliens pushed open the doors.

Morty stood momentarily frozen at the sight that greeted him. Warm rich tapestries and lavish oil paintings in gilded frames covered the walls. Tables piled high with canapes and flutes of liquor dotted the wide Persian carpeted floor. Comfortable looking cushions and sofas were arranged in little circular gathering spaces, breaking up the big room into smaller niches. 

And people were having sex. _Everywhere_. 

Morty was overwhelmed by how much there was to look at. A huge splorpian was rolling around in a crowd of traflorkians, a gazorpian woman was getting eaten-out by two reptilian looking men in latex suits, a meeseeks was tied down spread eagle on a table and being tickled by a feather. Aliens led other aliens around on leashes, much like Rick was leading Morty, but while some of the patrons were as tightly bound as Morty, some were completely naked except for collars and some crawled along the floor on all fours (or sometimes six or eight). Morty was reminded of Mrs. Pancakes’ sex dungeon dream inside of Mr. Goldenfold’s dream and asked himself how much time normal teenage boys spent visiting bordellos with their grandfathers.

Probably not as much as Morty did.

But it was easy to forget about Rick momentarily. After all, the last time he’d been in a situation like this, he’d been super awkward and not even remotely interested in what he was seeing, _plus_ finding a Summer doppelganger in lingerie was a pretty intense boner-killer. But now, well he was still definitely uncomfortable; his arms were getting sore from holding the same position and his jaw was starting to ache from the gag, but now, thanks to his rigorous masturbating sessions and somewhat expanded sense of the universe, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little intrigued.

He was broken from his stupor by Rick’s firm tug on his leash as they picked their way through the room; knowing Rick, Morty assumed making their way towards the bar. The patrons they passed eyed Rick salaciously and Morty couldn’t entirely blame them ( _that suit_ really did Rick wonders) but their interest would vaporize once they caught sight of the scalding glower. He was even walking the way he did when things went particularly sideways: like he had a dark purpose and was ready to _annihilate_ anything that got in his way. 

Morty got a lot less looks, though the ones he did felt much more predatory. The gazorpian woman watched him out of the corner of her eye, seemingly only half interested in the two men going to town on her genitals, and twice his skin was caressed by something on the end of a long stick; one time it was a feather and the other Morty belatedly recognized as a riding crop.

When Morty unintentionally made eye contact with a very large korblockian leaned back on a chaise lounge the size of a bed, he quickly averted his eyes, speeding up to catch up with Rick. The korblockian (honestly Morty could never tell gender with the floppy yellow aliens) rasped out a noise, reaching purple fingertips towards Morty who whined loudly enough at the rough touch along his chest that Rick turned around, already forming the words to snap at him. When the older man realized the reason Morty had complained, he tugged the boy against him and shooed away the wandering yellow hands.

“Sorry, b- _uuurp-_ uddy, mine’s a one horse pony, if you catch my drift.” The korblockian wiggly mouth flaps vibrated as the creature screeched again. Rick listened impassively, scratching the side of his neck and distractedly rubbing his thumb in a circle on Morty’s bare shoulder. Morty took notice of the two young people lounging in front of the korblockian like slave Leia to Jabba the Hutt: one female, one male, both of an alien race Morty didn’t recognize and both spectacularly beautiful. This was obvious even with the decorative masquerade-style facemasks covering their eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been here before,” Rick shrugged, fiddling with the hair at the nape of Morty’s neck. “But it’s been _decades_ so I doubt you’re recognizing me from here. Wait, you don’t by chance know Blim Blam, do you?” Pressed against his side, Morty didn’t miss the way Rick had tensed up, his hand becoming a talon on Morty’s shoulder.

Then Rick laughed suddenly, raucously, slapping his own knee in delight.

“Damn, for being biologically incapable of laughter, you sure know how to make a joke! Mind if w – _I_ join you?” The korblockian gestured expansively to the armchair beside his chaise and Rick settled himself down, snapping at a passing waiter.

Morty stood silently beside him, the drool gathering under his gag starting to annoy him, unsure where he fit in this particular scenario. Glancing around, the trend seemed to be lap sitting, the collared patrons stretched across or straddling their… leash holders… laps in a lewd way that Morty didn’t really want to imitate with Rick, even though the old man seemed to be hinting at it with the way he angled his legs expectantly. But standing awkwardly beside him seemed to be drawing the eye of the korblockian and he didn’t want to be the focus of any unwanted attention. 

Deciding he didn’t want to leave the choice open to Rick, Morty lowered himself to the ground, kneeling besides Rick’s knee. That seemed to take the penetrating heat of the korblockian’s gaze off him and Rick settled a heavy hand on top of his head.

The korblockian screeched and howled on, Rick seemingly letting the guy ramble and accepting the bottle of dark liquor and the ice filled glass the waiter hurried back with. 

Morty didn’t feel particularly good about the amount of booze Rick poured into his glass and immediately downed, not when Morty’s hands were starting to go numb and they weren’t even halfway through the mission. But from his position on the floor, he wasn’t even properly able to shoot Rick a judgmental look, so he settled for sighing heavily and settling himself a little deeper into the plush carpet, leaning his shoulder on Rick’s bony leg.

The two beautiful aliens were stirring now, and Morty realized with a jolt that they were wearing collars; thin, very delicate collars of silver that followed the curve of their necks and were inlaid with jewels. The same could be said of the ‘cuffs’ around their wrists – in any other situation, they’d be called bracelets. And the chains that connected the collars to each other and then led to a loop around the korblockian’s wrist was barely more obtrusive than the necklaces Summer wore.

And suddenly Morty was _furious._ Why was he strapped up so tight when _apparently_ he could have put on a fucking eye mask and a necklace and called it a day? Why were his cock and balls trapped in a metal loop that, given his kneeling position, was starting to dig uncomfortably into his thighs and drawing his attention unnecessarily down to his adamant half-erection? He struggled to swallow the collected drool pooled in his mouth and resented that he was wearing a gag at all when apparently it was completely unnecessary.

Whatever frustration was coiling up inside his chest was suddenly loosened when the pretty male alien, soft blue in color with two sets of arms, slid two open palms up the light green skin of the female’s stomach. The female moaned delicately – even her voice was lovely – and pressed into the hands. 

Morty was entranced. It was like watching porn but better. Rick laughed again above him, pouring himself another glass of dark alcohol, but Morty barely heard him, his attention focused on the aliens now kissing in front of the korblockian. 

The room narrowed down to light green breasts with darker green nipples, especially as blue hands began kneading them, gently tweaking at their hard points, and the female’s skin started flashing in strange electric pattern of silvers with her pleasure. Rick settled his hand back in Morty’s hair, long cool fingers toying with a curl of hair right behind his ear. 

Morty was jolted hard out of his obsessive staring when the korblockian clapped twice, his massive hands breaking the background noise of soft speaking and moans that Morty hadn’t realized he’d learned how to tune out until the moment it all paused. The noise started up again as another waiter approached, a pillow cradled between his two tentacle arms.

Morty, interest piqued, straightened up on his knees to get a better look at what had been brought over.

Five small orbs, a little smaller than marbles, glowing a dark violet. 

Rick leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and Morty got a look at the brief wild spark that lit the cold blue of his eyes. “Corzonite,” Rick mumbled reverently, plucking one orb up between his ashen fingers and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You know, I hear this is their specialty,” Rick said offhanded to the korblockian who ducked his head and flapped his face tentacles.

So _this_ was what they’d come here for. Morty wasn’t sure what he had been expecting - actually he probably hadn’t been _expecting_ anything, he’d long since learned the dangers of traveling the galaxy with preconceived notions – but this little glowing marble seemed like a small token for the strict bondage he was being forced to endure. 

Rick caught his eye, something dark gleaming in the corners of them, as if he could read his mind.

The korblockian screeched and Rick cut his glance over to their alien friend as he popped his own little glowing orb. His two companions pressed their pills into each other’s mouths and shared sips from the korblockian’s glass of clear liquor to swallow them down. The giant alien gestured expansively to Morty.

“Maybe later,” Rick answered, dropping the pill he was holding into his breast pocket and patting it. “First time and all, wouldn’t want _too_ much excitement.” The relieved sigh Morty started to breath out his nose was cut abruptly short as Rick snatched up the last orb on the pillow and swallowed it dry. “Me on the other hand, I know how to party. _Speaking_ of which,” Rick stood, dusting imaginary dirt from his suit pants and tugging Morty up by his short leash. “Hate to drop and dash but it’s time we took it someplace a little more private. This one’s a little shy,” he tussled Morty’s hair and Morty fought the urge to duck away knowing he wouldn’t get very far, anyways.

The korblockian screeched, Rick downed the last of the liquor sloshing around in the bottle in two big gulps and the beautiful aliens starting running their hands over each other’s skin again. Morty was left half despondent, half thrilled; pissed that Rick had taken alien drugs in the middle of a job when Morty really needed him to be on his A game, but relieved to be leaving the room of weird alien debauchery. 

“Come on, Morty,” Rick grumbled, leading Morty to a hallway off to the side and a long stretch of burgundy doors. “The corzonite should be somewhere around here. This place – this planet produces it, it’s the only place in the known galaxy that does, and they don’t let it leave the atmosphere, Morty. They’re re- _eaarp-_ al greedy about their shit, Morty. They think it’s some kind of aphrodisiac, and well, it is, it _really_ is-” his eyes got a little glazed as he dug the other pill out of his suit pocket and swallowed it down. Morty sighed through his nose. 

_Great_ , Morty internally grumbled to himself. As if Rick wasn’t enough to deal with when he was drunk and high, soon he’d likely have a horny Rick on his hands as well. And horny Rick sure knew how to get into fucking trouble, especially in a den of depravity like this one. 

Rick jogged up ahead to check around a corner, slipping around it and leaving Morty to shuffle-jog to keep up, the chain between his ankles clinking against marble flooring and his hands banging uncomfortably against his back. “-but it’s so much more than a sex drug Morty…” Rick finally picked back up his train of thought, finding the unmarked door he was looking for and peering inside. “Come on.”

It was a stairwell. Not like the ominous dark steps outside the fortress or the gold plated curved balustrade at the back of the main room. Just a normal, poorly lit stairwell. These stairs weren’t designed to intimidate, they were meant to be used by the staff, to keep their movement around the fortress invisible. And they were steep. 

Morty was glad when Rick automatically wrapped his hand around Morty’s upper arm and braced him as they slipped down two flights. Rick ducked his head out the stairwell first before motioning Morty to follow, this hallway much less extravagant than the upper floor. The doors they passed were labeled ‘Maintenance’ and ‘Housekeeping’ and stuff in alien script that Morty couldn’t decipher. They ducked into a door marked ‘Supplies’ and Rick hastily shut the door behind them.

“Okay, buddy, I’m gonna give you a little break,” Rick mumbled, arms reaching around Morty’s head to unfasten the gag. As Rick gently nudged the ball out from behind Morty’s teeth, built up drool slipped down and over his chin. Morty tried to wipe it off with his shoulder but the press of the collar into his chin made that impossible. At least Rick wasn’t one to judge some drool, and Morty surrendered himself to ignoring the cold, embarrassing slide of his spittle over his chin. Instead he concentrated on rolling his jaw back and forth to release the tension.

“Aw jeez Rick,” Morty stopped to clear his throat and lick his lips. Rick watched him with half lidded eyes for a moment before dropping the gag on one of the shelves and rattling around in the boxes next to it. “Why did I – why couldn’t I have been one of those mask people, huh? Why did you – why am I all tied up when I don’t need to be?”

“Oh you need to be, Morty,” Rick answered, shifting through the stuff on the next higher shelf. “If you want to ble- _eeerp-_ nd in, it’s better to go all out. Besides, last time I was here, dress code was _a little_ more strict.”

“Then why - why didn’t we just portal in, Rick? We coulda – we’d already be on our way back home if we’d just u-used your portal gun,” Morty couldn’t quite keep the whine out of his voice. His hands were starting to _hurt_. At this rate they’d be numb for hours and he was really looking forward to… using them… when they got back home. He had a lot of new material to work with.

“Oh the portal gun, Morty! Why _oh why_ didn’t I think of the _portal gun, Morty_?!” Rick waved his arms around; his particular brand of sarcasm always made Morty feel spectacularly stupid. “You can’t portal in and out of her here, obviously, or else we would have done it. See these walls, Morty, s-see this rock?” Rick rubbed the dark stone that had made up the fortress walls and that down here in the basement, they didn’t bother to hide with warm wooden paneling and gold gilding. “Orlantium granite. And do you know what Orlantium granite does, _Morty_?” 

Rick shoved at his chest a little and Morty struggled to keep his balance. He glared up at Rick before he asked, “N-no, Rick, what does Orlantium granite do?” resigned to the stupid game Rick wanted to play to feel superior.

“It _blocks portals_ Morty. It’s the – _uuuurp-_ the only known substance in the galaxy that can.” Morty immediately doubted the truth of that statement but squashed that thought down deep. “It wasn’t – they didn’t even do it on purpose, Morty. It’s just what their stupid planet is made of. Just what they had lying around. Now are you going to help me look or not?”

“I-I-I’m all tied up!” Morty sputtered in response. “How – How can I help when I can’t use my hands?!”

Rick spared a glance over his shoulder. “Just – Just read the boxes Morty, on the lower shelves. It should be labeled ‘corzonite’. It’s not rocket science.” Morty huffed loudly. “The sooner we find what we’re looking for, the sooner we get out of here,” Rick said flatly, annoyance tinging his voice, and Morty knew better than to piss Rick off when he was so dependent on him. He dropped to his knees, reading the sides of boxes and not understanding half of the languages they were labeled in. 

Sponges. Condoms. Laxatives. Cocaine. Alien gibberish. Massage oil. Hand wipes. MDMA. Butt plugs. Toilet paper. Something in… German? Towels. Another box of condoms. Gibberish.

After about five minutes of useless reading and re-reading, Rick’s little “Ah-ha!” broke the quite grumbles and Rick shook a small plastic box, opening it dramatically and tilting it so Morty could see it’s contents. At first Morty couldn’t quite make sense of what he was looking at. Inside the box was some sort of gravitational field, corzonite orbs hovering neatly in a suspended grid, perfectly spaced apart to keep from touching themselves or the sides of the box. Collected together, they were such a dark glowing violet that looking at them almost felt like looking into a black hole; they seemed to suck up the surrounding light and swallow it. Morty gulped at the wicked gleam to Rick’s smile and the way his pupils were starting to swell up.

Seemingly unfazed by Morty’s less-than-excitement, Rick pulled a clear plastic egg out his pocket, reminiscent to Morty of the kind you get at Easter with treats tucked inside. It was a little smaller than a pear and Morty already didn’t like the looks of it. As Morty watched, he pulled the two halves of the egg apart and dunked the cups in the box of suspended corzonite. When he pulled the egg back out of the box, it was closed again, full off small glowing orbs nestled neatly together.

“How are we going to smuggle it out, Rick?” he asked, his knees aching from where he still knelt on the hard tile floor. 

Rick cut his eyes down to his grandson but before he could answer, the sound of two female voices talking in the hallway interrupted them, alarmingly close by. “Shit!” Rick cursed under his breath, and then he was shoving the egg in his pocket, stacking the box back up on its high shelf, and fisting a handful of Morty’s hair in a vice grip, using it as leverage to steer him behind Rick’s body and pressing his pelvis aggressively into Morty’s face. 

A startled female squawk told Morty they’d been discovered, but with Rick’s hand shoving Morty’s head into the crotch of his pants, it was hard to make out the muffled conversation. Morty was distracted by the musky smell of Rick completely overwhelming his senses as he smothered against the old man’s hip. If Rick was trying to protect him, he was doing a terrible job of it.

“Oh, is this not a private room?” Rick asked above him, his most put-upon dumb voice a strange imitation of Doofus Rick.

“You can’t be here,” a voice said firmly in a thick dialect Morty didn’t recognize. 

That was when Rick pulled Morty back suddenly by the grip in his hair and Morty gasped, open mouthed, relieved for the unhindered breath. It was a moment later that his watering eyes landed on the two vaguely female feathered aliens standing with their arms crossed in the door way. On his knees in front of Rick, mouth still wet with drool and slack jawed, he realized the impression Rick was trying to sell.

Great. Nothing like pretending to suck your grandfather’s cock to get out of a tight spot. Then again, maybe he should be glad Rick settled for _pretending._

“You can’t be doing that here,” the taller of the two said again, and then Rick’s fingers were on Morty’s face, dragging along his wet lips, wiping away the drool. He was almost tender. The gentleness of his hand yet again sent spikes of desire crashing through Morty’s blood. Then Rick’s thumb hooked between his teeth, his palm curving under his chin, tilting Morty’s head up to meet Rick’s heated gaze. 

“I thought this place was supposed to be above kink-shaming,” Rick muttered and Morty could hear feathers rustling outside the closet. “I have a thing for supply closets.” Rick reached onto the shelf and the ball gag came back into sight. Morty faintly shook his head, the action made harder by the grip around his chin and the high-necked collar. His tongue inadvertently laved at Rick’s intruding thumb, wedged as it was to hold his mouth open. Rick’s face softened, pupils blowing out, but he pressed the gag back behind Morty’s teeth, pulling Morty’s forehead to rest against his hip while he tugged the straps tight and buckled it, Morty groaning through the process.

A bulge in Rick’s pants twitched next to his cheek and Morty felt a hot drop of _something_ sink into the pit of his stomach. Humiliation maybe. Or pride. Rick had been all over the place; had sex in every imaginable way with every imaginable creature; and somehow _Morty_ could have that effect on him. Morty’s cock throbbed in response.

“We aren’t _kink-shaming_ you,” the alien at the door said, and Morty crash landed back in the situation at hand. What had he been thinking, spacing out, _getting turned-on_ like that mid-heist? “You just can’t do that _here._ Literally everywhere but this floor is open for _that._ We have supply closets for you to use on the third floor.”

Rick over-exaggeratedly mimed zipping his pants back up before hauling Morty to his feet. The feathered women made a point to not look at Morty at all, only addressing Rick as they slipped back out the door and were led to an elevator at the end of the hall. 

“Yeah, but those are glorified hotel rooms dressed up to _look_ like supply closets. I’m into the real thing,” Rick said smoothly to the shorter woman who ruffled up her cheek feathers and darted her eyes away. “My cock can – _eeerp-_ tell the difference.”

The taller woman glowered at him. “I really don’t want to know what gets you hard.” Her eyes cut to Morty for the first time and his skin prickled at the sad, almost pitying look she leveled at him. “You and your young companion can find somewhere else.” The elevator door opened and for a minute Morty was sure the two women were going to escort them all the way out the front door but the tall one only pushed the number three on the inside panel and ducked back out again, glaring at Rick as the doors slid closed. 

They both breathed out heavy sighs once the dial above the door started steadily moving up.

“Wooo! Thaaaaat was a close one,” Rick chuckled, pulling his flask from his pocket and shaking it, the lack of sloshing proof of its emptiness. He dropped it back in his pocket and repressed a frown while he stretched out a hand to card through Morty’s hair. “You did great, Morty. You’re doing great. Just one more stop before we can get the fu- _uuurp_ -ck out of here.”

Morty tried not to let the feeling of Rick’s fingers on his scalp and the rare praise from his grandpa eclipse the low level frustration this job was winding him up in, a significantly easier thing to do with his hands starting to go numb. 

“We just got to make a quick stop and get this egg up your butt-hole and we can be outta here lick-lickity split.”

Wait. _What?_ Morty turned to Rick, glowering so hard he was sure his whole face was red with his anger. “Iy itn’t thine ut for tha-!” Morty growled through his gag, Rick back stepping and holding his open palms out in supplication. _Goddamn gag_. “No!” Morty was happy to realize ‘no’ sounded pretty much the same, even with the rubber holding his lips and teeth apart. The elevator doors dinged open. 

“Woah woah woah there buddy,” Rick soothed, “You gotta do this fo- _oorp-_ r grandpa.” Rick’s eyes cut away from Morty and the teenager was _furious_ that Rick thought he could disregard him during a conversation like this. He was _sick_ of being a human fucking suitcase for Rick’s paraphernalia! And he never gave him any fucking warning! This was the perfect example: if Rick had shaken Morty awake and told him, ‘Hey buddy, I want to drag you out to some harem planet and tie you up and shove illegal sex-drugs up your butt’, Morty would have fought a lot harder to stay in bed.

As it was, Rick’s eyes were dropping into a flatter, crueler expression and that only increased Morty’s rage. “Uh-uh.” He shook his head with the negatory noise, stomping his foot out of frustration. “Uh-uh.”

Rick latched a hand around his upper arm hardenough to bruise and Morty whined from the back of his throat, glaring daggers at Rick and squaring his shoulders until he caught the pointed way Rick was swinging his eyes from Morty to something just outside the elevator and back again. 

Turning his head as best he could, he realized he and Rick had an audience: the gazorpian woman he’d seen earlier with the two reptilian men. 

When he’d seen the group earlier, they had been one small facet of an overwhelming crowd of debauchery and he hadn’t registered any details besides the bare basics of their species and how hard the men were working to eat her out. Now he realized that what he had previously thought were latex body suits were… something a little different. Their arms were trapped below the latex, crossed over their chests under practically skin tight rubber in a hold that reminded Morty of a straitjacket. And they were blinded by hoods, thick latex hoods that covered the entirety of their head except their mouths. Their shoulders bumped together as the gazorpian tugged them forward on long leashes. 

She sneered down at Rick (she was nearly a head taller than him) and stepped aside so Rick could manhandle Morty out of the elevator by a finger looped through his collar. 

“It’s all yo- _ooourp-_ urs,” Rick gestured condescendingly chivalrous to the open doors. The gazorpian woman narrowed her eyes and surveyed the two of them with distaste clearly written across her features. Morty swallowed as best he could when the elevator doors slid closed without her in it.

“You must be new to this,” the woman spoke, her voice deep and velvety. The two hooded reptile men shifted their weight, Morty noticing the rigid bars that kept their feet spread. Morty again felt a wild inappropriate rush of appreciation for his simple chain.

Rick scoffed. “Hardly,” he gloated. “Been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, sweetheart. Now, excuse me but I’ve got a date with my grandson.”

Rick started tugging on the leash but Morty suddenly remembered what said ‘date’ entailed; i.e. a plastic egg nearly the size of a pear getting shoved up his butt, and he dug his heels into the carpet. 

“For being such an _old hand_ at this, your ‘grandson’ is very _obstinate_.” Her dark eyes slid to Morty and he realized his mistake. They needed to get away from this giant lady, _now._ She was giving off the aura of a predator, the kind that Morty had learned to sense in some animal way necessary to his survival. He turned to Rick with the most submissive face he could manage but Rick was too busy glaring down the gazorpian to notice his change of heart. 

“I like a bit of obstinance,” Rick challenged and Morty breathed heavily through his nose, pressing his chest against Rick to try and nudge him away. If Rick got in a fight with this lady, who would break it up? Morty’s hands were _literally_ tied. He scrabbled a bit to see if he could still reach the buckles but his numb fingers wouldn’t cooperate. 

Then two warm hands settled on his bent forearms and two settled on each shoulder (jeez, who needed four arms anyways?), stilling Morty’s struggles immediately. “Really? A bit of obstinance can be fun, I suppose. But I like my pets _dependent_.” The strap attaching Morty’s wrists to his collar started shortening, her grip guiding his arms up until his hands pressed together behind his shoulder blades in a backwards prayer. The position straightened his shoulders and strained his upper arms cruelly. “I like them to _need_ me.” Morty panted hard through his nose, a bit of drool slipping out past the bottom of the gag and dripping off his chin.

“-ick?” he mumbled through his gag demandingly, seeking out Rick’s gaze and pleading silently for help, for release. If he had been uncomfortable before, this was barely manageable. Morty’s whole chest was heaving, arms straining uselessly against the strict bondage. 

“It’s called a stress position,” the woman continued in a preachy, condescending sort of voice Morty could just tell would rankle Rick’s nerves. She spun Morty to face her and while two of her arms kept a firm grip on his upper arms, another notched his chin up with a curled finger. “Most planets consider it a form of torture but I find the compliance it breeds… refreshing.” She started unbuckling his collar, or at least that’s what Morty thought she was doing until the piece of leather wrapped around his throat started tightening. The loose space that Rick had left was getting eaten up and soon the thing pressed insistently at his skin, not exactly _inhibiting_ his breathing, but making him think real hard about every inhale through his nose.

“ _-ick…_ ” he tried again before being spun back around, relieved to have Rick back in his sights. But the old man was watching him with hot angry eyes that were anything but pitying. Rick dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, the motion drawing Morty’s attention to Rick’s wet lips.

“But the real trick to keeping them docile, to keep them _needing_ you-” Morty could hear the smile in the gazorpian’s voice as her grip on his shoulders held him away from her, Rick’s searing expression the only thing filling his field of vision. “-is this:” 

Darkness descended upon Morty as a blindfold pressed against his eyes. The last thing he saw was Rick’s pink tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. He tried to yank away from the woman behind him, tried to loosen whatever she was tying over his eyes, but she pulled him closer, tugging something tight against the back of his head and then releasing him so suddenly he stumbled, bereft. 

In the dark behind the blindfold, Morty swiveled his head and shoulders, the collar squeezing his neck in a vice grip, ears straining to hear the woman behind him or Rick in front of him. But his own heavy breathing and the hard pounding of his heart drowned out the surrounding noise as he tried not to panic. 

Why wasn’t Rick reaching out to him? Why wasn’t he grabbing him by the arm or hooking a finger in his collar, or hell, even tugging him by the leash? Was this a _joke_ to Rick? Would he leave him? Blind and mute in a hotbed of alien sex, his arms wrenched behind his back and loosing feeling, he was utterly helpless. He felt a sob try to bubble up his throat and get trapped and distorted by the gag. 

He huffed out an aggravated breath and took an unsteady step in the direction he had last known Rick to be. Then another. He was sure Rick hadn’t been standing this far away. God, _did_ he leave him? Air rushed noisily in and out of his nose. 

“…-ick?” he mumbled again, voice feeble even around the gag. He sounded pathetic. He _was_ pathetic. He needed Rick’s hands on him. He needed him to guide him _the fuck_ out of this place. He needed to know his grandpa wasn’t going anywhere without him, wasn’t going to disappear into some portal and leave him behind. 

Another unsteady step and his cheek felt the rough touch of a palm, the smell of solder and alcohol so familiar he almost teared up again. He pressed himself against Rick’s chest, tucking his face into the taller man’s shoulder and gasping out of his pried open mouth. Rick’s arm wrapped around him, his thin cold fingers trailing along his bent arms. An unsteady huff ruffled the hairs on Morty’s forehead.

“Results,” the gazorpian stated richly behind Morty, her hand tugging a bit at the strap that dipped between Morty’s ass cheeks. Morty heard a fleshy slap and the woman’s hand disappeared.

“I’m not much for sharing,” Rick rasped out, his voice a live wire, coarse and electric as it raced down Morty’s spine.

“Me neither,” she answered, a smirk in her voice. The elevator chimed and Morty could hear her and her reptilian entourage shuffle in. “Obstinance can be a bit overrated,” she called out before the doors gently bumped closed. 

“ _Mooooorty_ ,” Rick dragged out his name, the sound of it dark and angry and spoken against the shell of his ear. Morty tried to rub his blindfold up against Rick’s chest but the old man tutted, his arm unwinding from around him and Morty suppressed a whimper. “You got yourself into this, now you have to put up with it. She - She might see us on the way out. Wouldn’t – _uuurp_ \- want her to start asking questions, would you?” He grabbed Morty by the lead and dragged him forwards, Morty’s steps unbalanced without his vision. “And do you _really_ want to find out what’ll happen to us if someone catches us stealing their super-secret drug? This is a _sex dungeon_ , Morty. They have all sorts of clamps and plugs and _devices…_ ”

Morty whimpered again and heard the sound of a door swinging open. “This’ll do,” Rick muttered, shoving Morty in front of him. 

His feet hit cold tile and he shivered, frozen without Rick to guide him. Rick must have picked up on that fact because he crowded up behind him and shuffled him forward, hands on his hips. “Okay, let’s make this quick,” Rick mumbled, kicking Morty’s legs as far apart as the chain allowed and guiding Morty’s to bend at the waist by pressing his head down until his sternum made contact with cold porcelain. _A sink._ Morty thought belatedly. But his mind shorted out when Rick started loosening the leather strap that slithered up his crack.

Understanding dawned on him fast. No. _No._ This was… this was _fucked up_. Yeah, okay, so he was definitely no stranger to putting stuff up his butt on an adventure before. And yeah, so he had incorporated a bit of fingering into his masturbation sessions because the sensation wasn’t _totally_ unlikable. 

But _Rick_ had never been the one to shove something up there! Morty was generally allowed to scurry off on his own to slowly work whatever they were smuggling up inside himself. _In private_. And okay, so _once_ he had needed Rick’s help to get a particularly large crystal out of his ass but that had been a desperate circumstance; the thing had been about to erupt and it’s expanding edges made it too tight a squeeze to work out on his own and so Rick had shot him full of something from a syringe and then Morty’d woken up a couple hours later, crystal-free and blissfully unaware of what Rick had done to get it out.

He reared up and garbled out a protest but Rick pressed him back to position firmly, a cold hand locked on his bent arms. When he tried to rear against the hold, agony shot up his arms and Rick’s grip didn’t so much as budge ( _robot arm_ a voice in the back of Morty’s mind unhelpfully supplied). “Shhh – Shut up, Morty, there’s no other way. If I untie you, there’s no way you’re letting me strap you back up. So just… just _relax_ and this doesn’t have to be weird.”

It already was weird! And _damn right,_ he was _never_ going to let Rick tie him up again _._ Not for all the fucking corzonite in the known galaxy. 

But relaxing was easier said than done, especially with Rick’s cold grip squeezing his pins-and-needles hands. Morty felt Rick loosen (but not completely unbuckle) the strap at the small of his back, pushing it and the thong to the side as he fumbled with something that made a popping noise. _Lube_ Morty realized when something cool and wet trickled over his rim. Then Rick was pressing the edge of the plastic egg against his hole. Rick wasn’t exactly gentle and the egg wasn’t exactly small, and Morty blew a quiet huff out of his nose as he strained himself to relax, a seemingly impossible contradiction.

“Come on, Morty, you little perv. I know you’ve – yo- _ooou-_ u’ve put your fingers up there,” Rick panted out, twisting the egg against his rim. He pulled it away momentarily to circle the hole with a finger and Morty gasped, his thighs trembling. The finger dipped it, just a little, before retreating and the huge rounded edge of the egg was back against him. 

Morty’s breathing was coming fast and hard through his nose, in the dark space behind the blindfold he was willing his ass to unclench, to open up and accept the intrusion. The sooner it did, the sooner they could leave and this could join one of the _many_ instanced Morty would rather forget. He just had to loosen up. _God, why couldn’t he loosen up?_

The egg had just barely started sinking into the tight circle of his sphincter when something crashed in the hallway and Morty clenched, pushing the egg back into Rick’s hand. “God dammnit,” Rick cursed under his breath, hefting Morty up by a grip on his harness and steering him… someplace. When he was shoved unceremoniously into a tiled wall, his shin hitting something cold and porcelain, the _clank, shink_ of a latch being locked cut through the muffled thumping in the hall and Morty hazarded a guess that they were in a bathroom stall.

Of course it was a bathroom stall. Of all the horrible places this could be happening, it had to be a bathroom stall. The universe had a really unique way of spitting on Morty Smith every chance it got.

A loud crash startled Morty from where he imagined the door to the hallway must be, cutting his self-pitying short. Loud moaning and _squishing_ noises echoed through the room and Morty grimaced around the ball gag. The two of _whatever_ was out there clattered into another stall and started noisily disrobing.

He heard Rick sigh and lower himself onto the toilet, dragging Morty to stand between his legs, turning him and pressing against the back of his collar until his forehead rested against the stall door. The vibrations of the couple’s violent thrusting a few cubicles down sent shockwaves through the metal wall, wobbling it until it beat against Morty’s brow with each of their thrusts. 

Rick resumed his ministrations, pushing the egg hard against Morty’s rim, likely hoping to regain the small stretch he had attained just moments earlier but the rhythmic banging against Morty’s forehead was too distracting for him to find any sense of inner peace with which to unclench.

Rick sighed again and spun Morty around. “I didn’t want this to be weird, Morty,” he murmured into Morty’s sternum before he hooked one of his feet between Morty’s legs. He pulled Morty closer with an arm wrapped around Morty’s waist until the two of them met, chest to chest. The feeling of Rick’s thin but sturdy torso pressed against made Morty hyper-aware of his nipples, a body part he hadn’t given much thought to until the rough fabric of Rick’s suit dragged against them. 

Rick held him closer, pushing Morty to rest his weight on his shoulder with one hand and trailing the other over the curve of Morty’s ass cheek. When Rick’s faint stubble brushed Morty’s jawline, the boy panted, Rick’s mouth gravitating to the shell of Morty’s ear. 

Rick was breathing a little raggedly, his breath hot and warm on the sensitive skin. Morty felt Rick’s knee shift, his pant leg dragging along Morty’s inner thigh. The half erection that Morty hadn’t been able to talk down made itself known with a turgid throb against Rick’s ribs.

Rick chuckled lowly, a familiar sound made completely new by its place right beside Morty’s ear as Rick nosed at the delicate shell. “There we go, Morty,” he whispered, voice husky and liquor rough. “Loosen up.” The hand caressing Morty’s ass slid lower, a finger circling his still slicked-up rim. “I’ve got you, baby,” and _God_ hadn’t Morty heard Rick say that word a million times: _baby_ ; in triumph and in dismay, to taunt and to curse, but _fuck_ if it had ever sounded so good. 

Morty breathed in deep the musk of Rick’s hair tickling his nose; the utilitarian scent of the soap he bought in bulk mingling with the comforting burnt, oily smell of the garage and something almost spicy that was uniquely Rick, had always been Rick; the same smell that had wrapped around him when they first shook hands when he was fourteen years old. 

The thrusting of the strangers intensified making the stalls creak and filling the airs with cries, two garbled voices shouting out loudly, obscenely, for an almost comically long time before the room settled into quiet. Only heavy breathing and muttering leaked from the other stall, the two lovers speaking their alien tongues to each other. And still Rick’s finger circled Morty’s rim, pressing in gently every so often only to retreat, a cruel tease that Morty’s dick was _desperate_ for. When a stall door clattered open and the faucet ran, Rick sank his finger in to the knuckle and Morty choked, chest heaving and sparks exploding behind his eyes.

Rick waited as Morty adjusted, the couple garbling in tongues before opening the door to the hall and filing out. When the door latched closed, they were alone again, and Morty allowed himself to moan, the sound echoing off the tiles and metal. 

“That’s my good boy,” Rick breathed into his ear, dipping another finger inside of Morty and pressing him down into the intrusion. “You’re being so good, so good for grandpa,” he mumbled reverently, pulling Morty’s face away from his shoulder to swipe his free hand over Morty’s drool covered lower lip. His finger skimmed along the edge of the gag again and Morty couldn’t help it, he thrusted his hips blindly towards Rick like a needy animal. 

The cruel chuckle wasn’t a surprise; Morty’s reaction to it _was._ He moaned lewdly around his gag and thrust again, his leather covered dick brushing against Rick’s jacket. The hint of friction was torture, made even worse when Rick scissored the two fingers inside him, stretching him deliciously. 

“It’s just us now, Morty. Just you and me. Rick and Morty _forever_.” Rick’s stubble dragged along Morty’s shoulder, down his chest. He felt hot breath on his nipple and keened, leaning forward frantic to feel lips there, but Rick’s firm grip on the center of his harness kept him in place. 

Rick’s fingers found his prostate, massaging against it slowly and suddenly Morty was _aching_ , drool slipping down his chin and hips rolling back against Rick’s hand. “You’re so _desperate_ for me, Morty, aren’t you? Do you want me to make you come? Do you want to come for grandpa?” Rick’s nose bumped against Morty’s and the boy nuzzled blindly into Rick’s face, frantically pressing his cheek to Rick’s, looking for something, for contact, for _lips_ but the gag kept him from his goal and he settled for stiffly nodding, forehead pressed to forehead. 

Rick slid his free hand down Morty’s side and sparks exploded where their skin made contact. Morty groaned, Rick mirroring the sound. His hand stilled on Morty’s hip bone, his thumb long enough to span the distance to Morty’s aching bulge. He ran it up the twitching length trapped below leather, feather-light and teasing, and Morty _sobbed_. 

Then Rick’s hand slipped around to the back, the fingers inside pulling out while Rick took an ass cheek in each hand and squeezed roughly, nearly lifting Morty off his feet. Morty curved over Rick’s shoulder, a whine gurgling up his throat. 

And then something _big_ was pressed against his hole, much bigger than Rick’s fingers, and while hands spread his cheeks apart, that something big slipped passed the rim of his asshole and nestled inside of him, his sphincter closing up behind it.

Morty groaned at the stretched too-full feeling, the almost-pain of it ratcheting up his _need_ to be touched, the need to feel some friction on his pulsing cock, and his hands twitched against their restrains, unable to take the job. “ _Fuck_ , you’re perfect,” Rick soothed, his palms smoothing over Morty’s ass, trailing up to the buckle at the small of his back. Urgency took over and Morty reared forward, his crotch making one euphoric thrust against Rick’s chest before he was dragged away.

Rick was laughing again, low and hot, the sound cutting through Morty’s erotic haze. The strap tightened between his legs, pressed hard against his clenching hole and guaranteed that the egg wasn’t going _anywhere_ until Rick decided he wanted it to. Morty shivered.

As if he could read his mind, Rick rumbled, “I _own_ you, Morty. I _control_ you. You don’t get to come unless _I allow it_.” With unexpected violence, strong hands pushed Morty away from Rick, spun him around, pinned him face-first against the cold stall door. Morty felt Rick grind his hips hard against his ass, the rough fabric of his pants dragging over Morty’s tender bare skin, something hard nudging between his cheeks. 

“That corzonite is going to get real hot, Morty,” Rick whispered furiously in his ear and Morty bucked against him. “That shit – those little babies get reeeeeal hot when they aren’t being absorbed into the blood stream; they suck up every bit of energy and turn – turn into little nuclear reactors.” Rick’s tongue dipped into Morty’s ear making him groan and press his ass back against the cradle of Rick’s hips. Morty was already sweating, terrified of the things lodged inside of him. “I could power my spaceship for a year with just one, Morty, think what I could do with an ass-load.”

Rick’s teeth bit into Morty’s shoulder ferociously and the boy cried out, thighs shaking as Rick ground into him one more time, one big hand trailing to cup Morty’s package through the leather, his hand burning like fire. “You’re _mine_ Morty.” His mouth was searing against Morty’s ear. “You can’t get away from me, I’m the smartest man in the _multi-verse_ ; there’s no place you can go that I can’t follow, no _college_ that’ll take you I can’t find. You’re stuck with me, forever. Rick and Morty, hundred years.”

Then the metal door pressing against his cheek swung out and Morty stumbled, hitting his knees hard on the tile and falling onto his side, arm screaming in protest. Rick’s pant leg brushed past him. The air was less hot outside of the cramped stall and Morty took a few steadying gasps before struggling to his feet, the balance hard to achieve with his arms so trapped behind his back and his eyes covered. 

He heard Rick run the sink, a bit of splashing and then the papery sounds of a towel dispenser. His knees were still shaking, his arousal flaring hard in the pit of his stomach, and Rick’s words… _fuck_. He struggled to swallow around the gag. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice had been warning Morty that he had to get away from Rick. (The voice sounded a lot like the therapist they had been to exactly the one time before Rick shut down the idea that _any_ of his family members could benefit from seeing a licensed doctor) That voice reminded him that his grandfather was toxic, that he needed the people who loved him to hold him as the center of their universe, and that lying, manipulating, coercing, and violence were all ways that he made sure he _stayed_ at the center of said universe. 

It also flatly observed that Morty was likely the person Rick cared about most and that being the focal point of his grandfather’s affection was a dangerous thing to be.

It was at this voice’s urging that Morty had been applying for colleges on the other side of the country using a P.O. box and a dummy email address that he only logged into at school. 

But somehow Rick had found out. _Of course_ Rick had found out. Had Morty really believed he could outsmart _Rick_?

The egg shifted slightly and Morty could feel the exact shape it made inside of him as it started to warm.

Morty’s breathing started to hitch in a sob, his erection pressed expectantly at its confines, still impractically desiring to be touched. Morty hated himself in that moment. He had _allowed_ himself to be trapped completely at the mercy of a man infamous throughout the galaxy for the trail of destruction he left in his wake, and yet Morty was still utterly, defenselessly aroused.

With the sink turned off, Morty could only pinpoint Rick’s presence by the somewhat ragged sound of his breathing somewhere at the other side of the room. This was just another fucked up game Rick wanted him to play and Morty hated that he already could guess at the rules: Going to him now, seeking him out blindly and cowering before him would mean consenting; would mean admitting that Morty _did_ belong to him, and that concession was likely to open up a wide new world of trouble. But to stand here waiting would be torture. It would mean more time wrapped up in leather straps so tight his arms were going numb, more time for drool to pool up in the base of his mouth and slip down his chin, more time with that awful egg filling him up uncomfortably and growing so hot it would burn him from the inside out. And who knew what would try to use this bathroom next. Or what they’d do to him if Rick decided not to fend them off. 

The question was whether Morty could outlast Rick’s patience, but the warm stretch of the egg invading his rectum was answer enough already.

He took one wobbling step forwards and Rick let out a low growl. The noise of it helped Morty pinpoint his goal and he took another unsteady step. By the time he could feel the heat radiating off of Rick, the egg had lodged into a semi-bearable place and his own panting nose-breathing was drowning out Rick’s even huffs. 

When his forehead touched Rick’s sternum, he thought he might cry in relief. When Rick wrapped his arms around him in a firm, comforting hug, he did.

“That’s my good boy,” Rick soothed, running a hand through Morty’s hair and tucking his face into the cradle of his bony shoulder. “That’s my good Morty.”

And Morty hated it. Hated how _good_ the praise made him feel, hated how soft and soothing Rick’s fingers were against his scalp, hated how easily Rick spread his long legs and let Morty tuck himself against the taller man, his still insistent cock rocking slowly against the inner curve of Rick’s thigh.

When Morty’s crying calmed down, Rick gently pushed him away and cradled Morty’s face between his hands. Morty would have given almost anything to see what kind of expression Rick was wearing, but the blindfold only stuck more ardently to his teary eyelids. Rick’s stubble made contact with Morty’s forehead and something wet pressed briefly to his skin before Rick’s hands slithered down to his collar, a winding tug on his leash making Morty fairly sure that Rick had wrapped the slack up around his hand, the fisted cord pushing on the skin of his peck.

“Okay Moooorty,” the gentle tone easing out of Rick’s voice, the hard lilt with a jagged comedic edge slipping back into place, “time to get the fuck out of here.” 

Then Morty’s concentration was eaten up by shuffling beside Rick without losing his footing, by clenching his ass to keep the egg from shifting around too much inside of him, and by dreading whole-heartedly what Rick would or wouldn’t do once they got the fuck out of this BDSM hell-hole. 

Because they had crossed a line that Rick had previously only toed at. 

Morty wasn’t smart, fuck he wasn’t even _average_ really, but even he knew enough to recognize that Rick must have wanted this. Otherwise it wouldn’t be happening. Because it wasn’t often Rick did something he didn’t want to do, and he certainly never did it with this much enjoyment. Rick ran the show. Everyone else was just along for the ride. 

And Morty was the one who suffered the most for that.

After all, it had been years since his crush on Jessica had felt like more than just a routine. An act to play up for Summer and his parents to seem slightly more normal. It wasn’t like Morty could even _imagine_ having a regular high school girlfriend when he knew more about how to stage intergalactic coups than how to use the quadratic formula. Jessica was a fantasy he liked to play out to imagine what _he_ would have to be like to have finally caught her eye; the ordinary, B-average student with parents who cheered him on at his debate matches and a junker car in the driveway he’d paid for himself by working part-time at the movie theater. 

It was a nice daydream. Sometimes it made him sad but for the most part it kept him from falling off the deep end, a constant possibility since Summer moved out of the house a year and a half ago to live who-knows where and the only person who really _got_ him reduced her contact with him to a weekly call that just didn’t feel the same as coming home to find her sitting on the couch.

And that was _exactly_ what Rick wanted _._ He wanted him to feel alone. Well, alone except for Rick, of course. 

Worst of all, _knowing_ all that, knowing that Rick manipulated him into being pathetically dependent on him _didn’t stop him from loving Rick._ Some dark twisted part of him even _liked_ the way Rick pulled the strings of the universe to tie the two of them together because if Rick was willing to work so hard to keep Morty by his side, wasn’t that its own kind of proof that he felt _something_ back?

It had to be. It _had_ to be.

The ding of an elevator pulled Morty out of his own thoughts and they started moving again, the low murmur of voices and moaning building as they approached what Morty figured must be the main entrance room. A warm hand trailed down Morty’s side and he jumped, dislodging the egg from its relatively comfortable nesting place and stuttering out an unexpected groan. Rick wrapped an arm around Morty, growling at whoever had touched him and their hand pulled away like Morty’s skin was fire. 

“Mr. Obstinance. How are you liking my methods?” The familiar rich voice of the gazorpian woman intoned from Morty’s side, the likely owner of the hand that had touched him.

Rick shifted his weight, Morty following the motion pressed against his side. The egg inside him was burning up. 

“Eh, it’s okay if you’re looking for something temporary,” Morty felt Rick shrug. “Mine are a little longer lasting.” Rick trailed the backs of his fingers gently down Morty’s bicep and the boy repressed a shiver, tucking into Rick’s shoulder to hopefully hide the erection that must be tenting the front of the thong. 

The gazorpian tittered. “Care to compare notes?” She asked and Morty whined lowly in the back of his throat and pressed harder into Rick, stretching to nudge the taller man’s chin with his forehead. 

It was Rick’s turn to rumble out a laugh as he smoothed through Morty’s hair. “Maybe next time. Gotta get this one home, he’s pretty eager.”

“I can see that. A drink for the road?” 

Morty huffed out an aggravated breath when Rick perked up. “Great idea.” Luckily, the woman must have had something at the table already because he heard Rick swivel something, ice tinking against glass. He heard Rick’s heavy swallows and the slam of a glass. “When in β-083…”

Then they were walking again, and the placement of the egg was even worse when in motion. “Stairs, five of them, going down…” Rick spoke into the shell of his ear and Morty didn’t even bother repressing his shudder. Rick kept a firm grip around his bicep, supporting more of his weight with that one point of contact than Morty would have imagined possible.

Then a gruff voice stopped Rick in his tracks. “Looks like you met Gor-Rah,” the deep tone chuckled. “She’s got a thing for picking on fresh meat.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar and Morty struggled to place it.

“Is that the huge gaz- _oourp_ -orpian chick?” Rick asked sounding bored. “Opinionated, isn’t she. Not that I can argue with the results.” Rick grabbed Morty’s ass, squeezing it _hard_. Morty gasped around his gag as the egg shifted a little lower, Morty’s cheeks and chest flushing pink. Jesus, they were so close, why was Rick stopping to chat?

“Him first again,” the _almost_ recognizable voice gruffed out. Then it snapped into place. _Oh_. The security check. He hadn’t expected to have to go through it on the way _out_. But then again, how else could they be sure no one was taking their patented drug off planet?

…The same patented drug that Morty had shoved up his ass by the fist-full. 

_Fucking Rick,_ Morty cursed the old man furiously in his head.

Big hands grabbed him by the shoulder straps and maneuvered him away from Rick, a slick of cold dread beading sweat along his back. Oh fuck. _Oh fuck._ What happened when they found the egg? That body scan had picked up enough of Rick’s enhancements to draw the guard’s attention. A new fucking rock sitting in his ass had to be a pretty noticeable addition to Morty’s anatomy. 

Going through the scan blind was torture. He couldn’t watch the zerillian’s expression for signs of danger. He couldn’t catch Rick’s eye to get the clue-in to run. Hell, he didn’t even know where Rick was in the darkness behind the blindfold. He stood cold and alone, for all he knew with a room full of weapons aimed at his head, and the only thing he could do was trust that Rick would get him out if things went sideways.

The scan must not have immediately alerted the guard because the sound of a screechy beep startled him less than half a foot away from his chest. The wand scan. Probably because the buckles come up as points of interest. The wand beeped a few more times, sinking lower. 

When a beep came from the general area of his pelvis, Morty froze, positive that they had been made, that they were going to get caught, and that Morty was going to have to flee peril with his ankles tethered and something the size of a pear shoved up his butt. “That’ll be the ring,” the guard said. “I’ve got to see it again, to make sure. Protocol.”

Morty flinched away but it was Rick’s cool hand that slid down his belly and tugged at the waistband of his thong, the sensation of Rick’s callouses against his skin and the friction of the leather caused his half-erection to bounce in anticipation, something he was sure the two men _staring directly at it_ couldn’t have possibly missed. 

The guard chuckled and Morty felt his ears blush. “A bit more interested this time around, isn’t he?” the zerillian said off handedly.

He could hear the slow grin in Rick’s voice. “Like I said, Gor-Rah knows her stuff.” Rick dragged the edge of the waistband back up, ever so gently cupping him fully against his palm and Morty huffed through his nose. His dick pulsed against Rick’s hold before the hand was gone and Morty was shuffled a few feet back, stuck listening to Rick go through the scanner and grumble at the pat down.

When Rick finally caught up Morty’s leash again, muttering, “And here you didn’t think the ring was necessary, Morty; it covered the corzonite _perfectly_ on the scan…” into his ear, the borderline unbearable press of the egg inside him had overcome the short reprieve adrenaline had stimulated during his panic. Keeping up with Rick’s long-legged strides was impossible, the thing inside him a molten rock that took up every ounce of his awareness. 

He must have been making some kind of noise because fingers stroked over his brow and Rick’s voice whispered softly, “Almost there, bud. Come on.” But Morty couldn’t move. Could barely hear Rick’s little aggravated sigh over the pain and a distant, constant whine he hadn’t been aware he was making.

Then an arm wrapped around the small of his back and Morty was hoisted up against Rick’s hip like a little kid. How was Rick, _who was in his seventies_ , able to lift him up like he weighed nothing? ( _Robot arms_ , a voice muttered in the back of his mind) With one arm under his butt and the other encouraging him to lean the weight of his torso against Rick’s, Morty vaguely regretted that he was in too much pain to really fight the hold that Rick maintained with ease.

Rick made fast work of the stairs, the reverberation of his heels against the rock sending shock waves straight to the egg screaming against his insides but it was better than walking, better than feeling it move around with every step, and Rick’s long legs had them approaching the familiar rumble of the ship in seconds.

Rick gently set Morty down in the passenger seat, the jostling leaving Morty gasping hard through his nose. Morty felt the ship pitch with Rick’s weight sliding over the hood and the _creak-SLAM_ of the driver side door before the upward acceleration pitched Morty back in his seat and he groaned. 

Fingers scrabbled at the back of his head. “Getting hot, buddy?” Rick asked, his voice laced with a rare depth of concern. Morty nodded and huffed out an urgent breath, the blindfold loosening around his eyes. At the very first hint of light, Morty had to squint his eyes shut, his pupils too adjusted to the dark to stand the dazzling rays of evening sunlight reflecting off waxy red leaves. 

Rick finally managed to unknot enough slack to yank the blindfold over Morty’s head and the cool climate controlled air of the ship was a shock against his warm skin. Morty’s sweaty stomach and chest were twitching with spasms and when one wave of anguish dimmed to a sturdy throb, he blearily opened a single eye.

Rick was bracing a hand against Morty’s headrest, splitting his attention between Morty, yanking off his suit jacket like a maniac, and the crashing foliage around the ship as he careened them into a hard landing in the dense crimson forest. The jolt of hitting the ground shifted the egg and made Morty bend nearly in half, whimpering.

Rick climbed into the passenger seat with Morty before the ship had properly settled, wrenching open the door and tossing his jacket to the red grassy ground. “Want it out?” Rick urged, once again showing off his astonishing strength by picking him up and crawling out of the ship, cradling the teenager against his chest. All Morty could do was nod, aware that tears were streaming out of the corners of his eyes unchecked. “Okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’ll get it out.”

Rick dropped to his knees and deposited Morty with unexpected gentleness onto his discarded suit jacket, Morty’s face buried in Rick’s heady scent of soap and solder and spice. He turned him mechanically, Morty fighting the urge to curl up in a ball, and pulled his wobbling knees under his hips. With Morty’s forehead pressed to Rick’s jacket and his ass in the air, he felt ridiculous, but it was a distant embarrassment that at the moment didn’t remotely eclipse how desperate he was for Rick to pull that thing out him.

With quick sure hands, Rick tugged Morty’s thong down to his knees and unbuckled the strap at the small of his back, peeled it out from between Morty’s cheeks and dropped it to let the long loose end of it dangle next to his half-hard, exposed dick. Rick smoothed his hands along either side of Morty’s cleft and spread him, pointer fingers of each hand prodding at his hole. 

“You’re gonna have to help me, Morty,” Rick panted, Morty whimpering in response. “You gotta – you have to push it out, okay?”

Morty wasn’t sure he had control of those muscles anymore, not with the way his insides were spasming erratically from the _heat_ of that thing. _Jesus_ , it was cooking him from the inside out. He did his best to nod though, the practice of Rick’s rough, calm voice talking him through pain all too common. 

As he began to press the intrusion out, Rick slipped two fingers in, spreading his hole and probing inside him. The fingers felt soothing in comparison to the giant obstruction slowly making its way out, the spread easing its passage.

“There we go Morty, I – I feel it now. Just keep pushing. Like you’re giving birth. Or taking a biiiiiig hard dump.” Morty’s cheeks were already burning with the effort but he resented Rick’s ill-timed humor all the same. “There we go, oh – I-I see it Morty! Almost there!”

Morty’s teeth clenched hard on rubber when Rick’s fingers got a solid grip and he pulled, the egg breaching his sphincter and dropping into Rick’s waiting palm, the finality of it dragging a soul deep groan from the depths of Morty’s throat.

“Holy shit, Morty, this thing is really hot,” Rick conceded, bouncing the egg between his two palms like he was playing hot potato before dropping it onto his jacket. Morty was too busy breathing heavily and melting into a pile of relief, his asshole clenching and unclenching with the sudden feeling of emptiness after a big stretch. The only reason his shaking legs didn’t collapse underneath him was because Rick was still behind him, bracing him with a soothing palm on each hip. Distantly Morty realized he was lying in a puddle of his own drool, soaking Rick’s jacket with his spit, but it was hard to care about the potential ribbing he’d get for it later when he was riding the surge of endorphins still spiraling through his system. 

When Rick circled his rim with one wet thumb, Morty jolted, remembering the cringe-worthy, ass-up position he was in and who sat at his heels. “Hey, relax Morty, you did great.” Rick’s hand smoothed over the inside curve of his cheek, thumb still rubbing against his hole. It was soothing and upsetting all at once. “You really saved the day there, buddy. Got _all_ the – got a _big_ haul of corzonite for me to work with, Morty,” Rick murmured, massaging the tense flesh. If that was true, then what was Rick still doing fucking around with his asshole?

Morty groaned and turned his sweating face, the dark shadow of Rick immediately visible where he kneeled behind Morty. Rick was watching him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie blowing gently in a light breeze that was chilling the thin layer of perspiration covering Morty from hairline to toes. His face though… maybe it was a testament to his short time (though it felt like an eternity) under the blindfold, but Morty was startled by the intensity on his grandpa when he sounded so stoic.

Rick’s eyes were fever bright, searing points of electric blue raking over Morty’s body like a laser, Morty’s skin heating up under the gaze like he was being branded. Rick’s thin shoulders were heaving with his panting breath, his lips parted and shiny as he slid a tongue across chapped skin. There was even the faint dusting of a flush painted high on Rick’s cheekbones, coloring the ashen skin a light pink. 

He looked _wrecked_ and the sight froze the breath in Morty’s lungs, blood rushing to fill out his erection.

“You’re such a good boy, Morty. Let grandpa – let grandpa make you feel better.” The heat of his words filled Morty with trepidation and the boy groaned and wiggled his arms as best he could, a wordless plea. “He – Here Morty,” Rick acquiesced immediately, leaning over him to loosen the strap pinning his arms so high up his back. Morty groaned in relief, turning to press his forehead into the soft ground through Rick’s jacket, the sudden inrush of blood to his numb limbs brushing on the edge of agony. Rick’s hands massaged the throbbing limbs, soothing circulation back into place with firm rubs spanning from his shoulder and working all the way down his wrists. 

The attention felt good, made Morty feel like he might be just the smallest bit valuable to Rick, and his dick bobbed for attention. 

The way Rick pressed the hardness in his own pants against Morty’s up-slanted ass startled him from his pleasure. When Morty tried to rotate his protesting shoulders and brings his hands in front of him, he discovered the cuffs were still linked to each other, his wrists still tied together behind his back. An indignant noise squawked out around his gag, his body rearing forward to try to escape Rick’s hold. His cock pulsed in excitement when Rick’s hand leveraged him back with a grip on his shoulder strap and Morty stewed in the wave of shame and distress that colored the edges of his arousal. 

“Woah there, _Morty,_ I’m not done yet,” Rick’s voice rasped hot and low, using his grip on Morty’s harness to tug the smaller boy up against his chest, Morty coming to a kneel in the space between Rick’s knees. Rick latched his stubbled chin over Morty’s shoulder and pressed a hand to his sternum, stilling Morty’s half-hearted struggling to conceal his ill-timed erection.

Rick stilled, the low huff of a scratchy groan stirring the hairs next to Morty’s ear. When one long fingered hand circled the front of his collar and titled his head to meet Rick’s downturned face, he knew the old man had seen. A wave of humiliation crashed over him so fiercely it left Morty winded, but his lower body didn’t get the message, the red swollen length surging up under Rick’s liquid fire gaze.

“Let me help, Morty,” Rick panted into Morty’s ear, the boy’s body shivering in response. Morty’s hands, still bound behind him and pinned between them, latched onto two fistfuls of Rick’s shirt.

Morty hardly breathed when Rick’s two cold hands trailed from his shoulders, down his pecks, grazed gently over hardened nipples, and skimmed over the twitching muscles of Morty’s stomach, Morty groaning loud, closing his eyes and throwing his back to lean against Rick’s shoulder, incapable of watching the progression. When Rick’s hand stopped at the leather strap cinched around his waist instead of continuing their path south, Morty blinked his eyes open and stared blankly at the red foliage gently rustling overhead.

Nimble fingers unbuckled the leather, smoothing over sticky, sweat-trapped skin. A hand rubbed smoothly at the red indentations left on his quivering belly, the tips of his fingers _just_ brushing the beginnings of Morty’s sparse, coarse hair and Rick had to hold him upright through the violent twitch that wracked Morty’s upper body. “Feel good, baby?” Rick asked against his hair, voice no more than a whisper, and Morty trembled.

Instead of sliding his hands down (which Morty had _very_ conflicting feelings about), the warming palms trailed upwards, unlatching the next buckle and smoothing over the freed skin. Morty’s knees were shaking by the time Rick had loosened the shoulder straps, thumbs slipping under the leather to press deliciously into Morty’s trapezius, the gentle pressure releasing the tight lock of Morty’s muscles. 

Morty convulsively gripped and released Rick’s shirt, scrabbling at the solid stomach beneath, desperate for skin, for warmth, for _something_ to hold onto. Rick’s own erection pressed insistently at Morty’s ass and Morty tried to reach for it, but Rick hugged him tighter against his chest, trapping Morty’s hands. Frantic, Morty ground down onto Rick’s bulge, startling a breathy grunt from the older man.

“You’re so sensitive, Morty,” Rick murmured reverently into the skin of Morty’s shoulder, arms wrapped tight around Morty as he rutted into him from behind in one long stroke. “So responsive. _Fuck,_ Morty, do I make you feel good?” His hands trailed down, following the center strap from its start at Morty’s sternum, down the heaving expanse of his rib cage, over his trembling stomach, until slender fingers prodded at the metal loop circling the base of Morty’s cock and balls. Morty moaned at the slight nudge, his dick so hard and aching that even that small hint of contact sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through his body.

Rick panted into Morty’s ear, dragging wet lips over Morty’s cheekbone. Morty turned his face desperately seeking more, the stiff collar pressing hard into his neck and making him gasp, but it was worth it to nose at Rick’s jawline, and press his forehead into his cheek. He felt Rick’s smile against his hairline.

“I _know_ you, Morty,” he spoke softly against his forehead. “No one else in the multiverse could make you feel this good.” Morty nodded wildy as one of Rick’s hand circled the metal loop, his other hand massaging his testicles, guiding them gently though the ring as fingers grazed soft as silk along Morty’s length, dragging the band up and off Morty’s pulsing shaft. Rick’s voice was dark when he rumbled, “Not even another Rick.” 

Morty pressed wet eyes into Rick’s chin and sobbed, frantic for a firmer touch as the black straps of the harness gently slid off him and disappeared from his sight. His chest heaved deeply, the full expansion of his rib cage returned to him after hours without. The deep breaths were making him dizzy and without Rick’s hands holding him up, he slouched over, butt hitting the ground hard.

His eyes popped open in surprise to find Rick leaning over him, fingers tugging at the buckle of the ball gag, snagging a bit in his hair as the metal latch _tink_ ed. Rick kept the ball pinned behind his teeth until he’d pulled back far enough to watch the rubber slip past Morty’s teeth, a slick string of drool trailing from the gag to Morty’s lips. “ _Fuck_ Morty, you’re fucking incredible,” Rick panted, his voice hitching like watching Morty lean over and spit into the grass was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Morty groaned, rotating his jaw and meeting Rick’s flaming eyes with a neediness he knew he couldn’t hide. “You’re so fucking precious. My precious boy, god you’re a fucking treasure.”

When Rick guided him down, cradling the back of his head until he was leaning back on bent arms, Rick’s ruined jacket crumpled underneath his elbows, Morty felt a bubble of logic rise unbidden past his rabid horniness and make itself known to the part of Morty’s brain that wasn’t a lust-filled animal. 

Was this… okay? Was this what Morty wanted?

Irrationally and totally unbidden, his mind darted to the time the two of them had gotten wrapped up in an adventure for a week, unable to send work back home. His parents were separated again at the time but his mom hadn’t even noticed him missing from the breakfast table, the only meal they shared when she worked the late shift. Nor had she noticed the voicemails from the school about his poor attendance. Or the dishes piling up in the sink without Morty to complete the chore. They’d come home to her snoring on the couch, two open bottles of wine on the coffee table. When she’d woken up, she’s groggily reminded Morty to clean up the kitchen before turning over and passing out again.

He’d stopped by his dad’s apartment after a weeks’ worth of increasingly needy texts hit him all at once, but what Morty had briefly thought was concern turned out to be desperation for rent money.

But when a gang of borlaxians kidnapped Morty to blackmail Rick into building a doomsday device the year before, Rick had realized Morty had been taken _within minutes._ Before the ill-fated criminals even got a chance to send their ransom message, Rick was busting down their door with an explosion that incinerated half the warehouse they used as base. He’d killed everyone, _not very nicely_ once he realized they’d roughed Morty up enough to break his nose and leave him two black eyes. Rick had glowered darkly at the burning remains of their warehouse and told Morty, “This is a message to the rest of the universe: _Don’t fuck with Rick Sanchez._ ” 

It was much later on, laying alone in bed with an icepack on his swollen cheeks and an empty cup of Rick’s special hot chocolate on his desk that Morty realized the implication of what Rick had said: hurting small, stupid, useless Morty Smith _was_ fucking with Rick Sanchez.

And that… that had to mean _something._ Something besides the fact that Rick had used the occasion as an excuse to put a chip behind Morty’s ear like some kind of wayward pet.

It was a memory Morty revisited often when he felt alone in a vast universe of indifferent, semi-intelligent beings. And the soul-deep relief etched across Rick’s face when he’d found Morty bloodied up and crying in a metal storage trunk quickly running out of air flashed before his eyes now, halfway steading Morty’s resolve.

The insatiable arousal that had been eating him up for _hours_ did the rest.

When Rick kneeled by his bent legs, Morty severed the last tattered hang ups clinging to his conscience and spread his legs, the tether between his ankles cutting him short. Rick must have had a similar thought because he unclipped the chain from his ankle cuffs, slid the thong down and off his legs, and ran a calloused palm up Morty’s calves, spreading them so Rick’s body could slot further between his thighs.

After all the strange events of the last couple hours, after the bondage and the fingering and the burning egg filled with space drugs, Morty was shocked to see uncertainty crinkle up Rick’s weathered brow. The old man opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but for once he was speechless, the half formed start of a word dying in the cool evening air. A gurgle of anxious laughter spilled from Morty’s open mouth unbidden and Rick’s unibrow curved into a scowl, any doubtfulness vanishing in a wicked grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You ever done this before, _Morty_?” Rick sneered, the laugh curling up in Morty’s throat. “Anyone ever take this for a ride?” Morty gasped as Rick wrapped a firm hand around the base of Morty’s cock. Morty’s thigh began to shake. “Huh, baby?”

Morty sobbed, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he shook his head.

“What about here?” Rick demanded, dropping his other hand to thumb at Morty’s rim, a tremor quaking up Morty’s stomach. “Anyone besides you ever been in there?”

Morty couldn’t drag his eyes away from Rick’s, caught in the trap of his cold blue glare. “O – Only you, Rick,” Morty croaked, his voice rough from disuse. It was the right thing to say because Rick moaned like he’d been slugged in the stomach, heavy lids falling closed and breathing quick through his nose. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s right. And we’re gonna keep it that way,” Rick groaned, pressing his thumb in, an easy fit from the earlier stretch. Morty was sore, Rick’s thumb rubbing over swollen flesh, but the long stroke Rick ran up the full length of his shaft made the insistent press bearable. More than bearable: fucking incredible. The tinge of pain added an urgency to his pleasure the likes of which Morty had never discovered on his own. “I own you and I own your pleasure,” Rick promised darkly. “Remember that.”

When Rick thumbed at Morty’s leaking slit, starbursts popped behind his eyes and lolled his head back, his body going boneless. Rick rumbled out a hoarse laugh, the noise a deep pour of whiskey on ice and something in Morty’s heart swelled uncomfortably. Rick dipped another finger inside and spread them, stretching the tender channel and rubbing at the hard bump that set Morty’s nerves alight. 

When he managed to open his eyes, Rick was watching him; something vulnerable in the wide eyed fascination and the softness of his mouth. Morty had never thought much about that mouth before, usually a tight slashed line of a scowl and nearly always biting out harsh words, but now the lower lip pouted open in a curious gape and something about his staring must have registered to Rick. 

“What do you want, Morty?” Rick whispered, the meanness leaking from his tone, eyes darting across Morty’s features, searching for the answer. 

Morty knew it wasn’t a good idea. In fact it was likely the one thing that would guarantee he’d be sealed to his ferocious, possessive grandfather forever. But he needed it. If this was how he was going to lose his virginity, he would cling to any facsimile of emotional connection he could get.

“Kiss me,” Morty whispered back and for half a moment Rick sat stunned, muscles in his face loosening and hands sliding down Morty’s thighs to tug him closer, hitching them over his own. Rick licked his perpetually chapped lips and when he leaned over, his rumpled tie trailed over Morty’s stomach.

“Say it again,” Rick demanded roughly, his liquor breath puffing across Morty’s lips.

“Jeez, Rick, don’t be such an ass-”

Rick didn’t kiss gentle. Morty hadn’t expected him to. He drove his tongue into Morty’s mouth like he wanted to find a piece of him and tear it loose. And when Morty experimentally ran his tongue along Rick’s, the older man moaned deep and low, the sound pushing into Morty and traveling straight to his throbbing dick.

Rick tasted like sour liquor and his lip-work was sloppy and wet, but Morty settled contentedly into the wiry arm wrapped around his back and sighed when Rick tugged his hair with the fist he had buried in the curls at base of his skull. 

When Rick pulled away, dragging Morty’s lip between his teeth and soothing at the bite with his tongue, Morty couldn’t quite handle the depth to Rick’s gaze but found himself helpless to look away. This _meant_ something to Rick. Morty could tell from the pointedly gentler kisses he pressed along Morty’s cheekbone, the soft nibble at his ear, the hickey he slowly, _ardently_ sucked into Morty’s collarbone. Morty wasn’t sure if that realization terrified him or reassured him, but he didn’t let himself dwell on the expanding stretch of his own heart, concentrating instead on arching into the lips plucking at his nipple.

Rick only laid off his wet and greedy exploration of Morty’s chest once the whole pale expanse of it was littered with hickeys and bites, the boy reduced to a quivering puddle of frenzied lust. The smirk Rick cut down to him when he pulled up was charming for its odd, cocky familiarity and Morty’s heart turned over again, his hips thrusting against the empty space that used to be Rick’s bowed stomach.

“Ask for it Morty,” Rick demanded, his voice rough and eyes wild, dragging his nails along Morty’s sides and making him writhe. “Come on, baby, tell Grandpa Rick what you want.”

Morty sobbed, momentarily annoyed that Rick just _had_ reminded him who _exactly_ he was a panting squirming mess for, but he was too far gone, to helplessly aroused, too utterly exhausted and at his wits end to put up a fight. And _god,_ didn’t he always let Rick have what he wanted?

“Fuck me, Rick,” Morty gasped. “Please.”

“That’s my good boy,” Rick breathed, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down around his thighs in record time. Rick’s larger, redder, and veiny-er cock sprang up between them and Morty stared at it in shock and fascination, a pleased look dragging Rick’s eyebrow up his forehead. He’d seen it before, _jeez_ he’d seen it too many times, but in this situation, with the expectation of having it _inside of him_ , Morty couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how it would fit.

While Rick fished around in his pants pocket, he thrust his cock along the tender underside of Morty’s shaft until their heads bumped together, precum mingling as his free hand circled both of them and stroked. The intense heat of Rick’s swollen member sent Morty’s eyes rolling back into his head.

With his eye’s closed, he heard the pop of the lube bottle and the slick noise of Rick palming himself before Morty reared as something buried itself into his hole.

He was surprised by how much Rick managed to slide in before he met the squeeze of resistance, Rick barking out a hard grunt as Morty stretched around him. “Fuck, baby, you’re so so tight,” Rick gasped, spreading his palms across Morty’s hips, face downturned to watch himself disappear inside of Morty’s body. Morty grimaced and cried out but Rick pushed on, cutting a searing glance to Morty’s teary face. “You can take me, Morty. You’re doing so good,” he soothed, lifting one of Morty’s legs by the back of the knee and lolling his head back with the new position. Rick looked like he was in the throes of an epiphany, his mouth slack open and eyes reverent, his hips slotting forward forward _forward_ until he bottomed out, Morty groaning as Rick’s cock sunk to a depth he’d never reached before.

“Fuck, Morty. You’re so precious, my good boy.” Morty’s dick throbbed at the praise and he clenched, his body trying desperately to adapt. “Shit, I _felt_ that Morty,” Rick mumbled, falling forward to brace his arms on either side of Morty’s heaving chest. “Do it again,” Rick demanded and Morty complied, gasping as the too-full feeling sent mixed signals to his brain. 

When Rick rocked his hips back and rolled them forward, a rush of pleasure overshadowed the pain and Morty sobbed, overstimulated and debauched. “That’s it, Morty,” Rick whispered, his face so much closer as he leaned over him. “I’m going to ruin you,” he muttered, the words somewhere between avowal and regret, a slow rhythm rocking Morty up as Rick wrapped his arms around Morty’s back to press him down into his thrusts. “I’m gonna wrap you up so tight around me you’ll never get away.” Their eyes met and Morty saw it there, finally saw the difference between Rick’s cybernetic eye and the real one, the supernova glowing at the center of Rick’s human pupil the glowing truth of his promise. “You belong to me. You always will.”

Morty stuttered, his dick pressing insistently at Rick’s clothed stomach, the head snagging in the folds between buttons. “You too, Rick,” he managed to stammer out as Rick’s thrusts picked up pace, a sheen of sweat glistening on the old man’s brow. 

Rick grunted with a particularly sharp roll of his hips, eyes rolling back before settling on Morty’s face. “Me what, Morty?” he asked, voice gruff.

“You - You belong to me too,” Morty answered, and it was worth it for the surprise that parted Rick’s lips giving Morty the opportunity to lick inside. It wasn’t a moment before Rick was pressing back, lips hard and frantic as his startled groan dragged into a bone-deep moan, Morty sucking on Rick’s tongue. 

When Rick reached down one calloused hand and pumped Morty’s swollen cock with urgency, Morty exploded, Rick following him over the edge and crying out into Morty’s open mouth from the tight clench as Morty came, the pressure squeezing him to a sudden orgasm. Morty shuddered in the aftermath, the warm rush of cum coating his insides elongating the after-tremors wracking through him in full body shivers. 

Rick was practically a dead weight on top of him, his wet mouth panting loudly in Morty’s ear. But the heft of him was reassuring, even with Morty’s bound hands going numb under his back. Morty already dreaded the moment Rick would pull away, so much less certain of where they stood now that he wasn’t delirious with arousal. When Rick’s softening cock slid out of a quivering Morty, the older man leveraged himself up, groaning as he rolled over into the red grass and tucked his member back into his pants, zipping up his fly but leaving the button undone. 

When Morty struggled up to his elbows, Rick turned to him, face carefully blank. With a lazy sweep of his eyes, Rick took in Morty’s bound hands and stretched out an arm, tucking it under Morty’s back and guiding him in a roll that dragged Morty onto Rick’s chest, head tucked under his chin. Rick ran his hands from his biceps down over his forearms finally fiddling with the link that connected the two cuffs, unclipping it and gently wrapping his hands around Morty’s smaller ones. He calmly kneaded the feeling back into them, Morty raising his head try to get a read on the silent man below him.

Rick’s expressionless face stared back at him. It was like a shutter was drawn, no emotion sparking in Rick’s eyes, no frown or crease to give away his thoughts. His eyebrow was a perfectly flat, eyes just slightly lidded and boring vacantly back at him, mouth a perfect neutral line. Morty drowned in that look, the sinking weight of fucking up, of being cast aside, of a green vortex spiraling open and the corners of a lab coat disappearing into the void. Morty’s windpipe closed up, he couldn’t get enough air, he was going to hyperventilate and Rick would shrug him off and then they’d be back in ship on their way home like nothing had happened.

Morty’s aching shoulder sockets protested the long unused motion when Rick slowly dragged Morty’s hands up to his shuttered face, pressing a chapped kiss to the knuckles of each hand. 

The gesture broke Morty, fists trembling before winding tightly in the collar of Rick’s shirt. What did that sweet, almost adoring scrap of affection _mean_? Morty sobbed raggedly into the larger man’s shoulder, Rick calmly carding his hand through Morty’s hair and pressing one searing kiss to his hairline.

Slowly the sobs died down and Morty’s breathing settled into the inverse of Rick’s; soft exhales heaving out of Morty while Rick’s chest expanded with his inhale. Rick cupped the back of Morty’s head and rubbed a soothing circle into the small of his back, sighing out a hum from the back of his throat. 

Thinking it was better to remove himself than wait for Rick to get aggravated, Morty rolled to the side, back onto Rick’s jacket, the sticky spend that had dried between them dragging Rick’s crumpled shirt along with him and revealing a stripe of ashen stomach and a line of light blue hair. Morty gaped at it briefly before he slid into the crook of Rick’s elbow, resting his cheek on Rick’s chest. The cooler dusk air was chilling the almost dried sweat clinging to Morty’s body and he pulled the suit jacket around him, finding a sleeve and pushing his hand through.

Rick waited for him to settle before hugging Morty to his side with one arm, the other slinging over his own closed eyes. The old man let out one long exhale from his nose that almost sounded like a sigh.

Dimly, Morty could almost see what he’d been waiting for since Rick had walked into the Smith family living room and landed bright, expectant eyes on Morty like he knew some big secret that he couldn’t wait to share: 

Rick _probably_ loved him. Or… well… he probably got as close to loving Morty as a Rick possibly could. Which was probably as much as anyone could ever love Morty, anyways. 

It wasn’t exactly reassuring. And it wasn’t in quite the way Morty had been hoping for. And the thing about Rick was that it could disappear at any moment without a word of notice, just like the man himself. After all, that’s what had happened to just about everyone else; Rick’s beautiful wife, his brilliant daughter; so it was inevitable that Morty, who had nothing of any merit or depth to offer the brilliant scientist, should expect the same. 

But… But Rick might be the best thing that had ever happened to Morty. The thought of walking out first, of shipping off to college and watching Rick and his adventures and his terrible jokes and his _almost_ -kind _just_ -for-Morty eyes disappear in a rear-view mirror was _devastating_. 

Morty couldn’t leave now. He couldn’t even imagine loosening the furious grip on his grandpa’s shirt to stand up. Rick _had_ ruined him. Morty had let him.

“Hey - Hey Rick,” Morty’s voice was a coarse scratch of sandpaper, throat shot from moaning and sobbing in quick succession. He cleared his throat. Rick hadn’t moved but his fingers were tight where they wrapped around Morty’s arm. “I was thinking… Maybe after I graduate, we rent a place on Byloptia-7.” Rick lifted his arm from his eyes to quirk a strange look down at Morty. Carefully flat but tinged with a glimmer of something that almost looked like _hope._ Morty really hoped he wasn’t imagining it.“You know, purple oceans, big puffy clouds.” Morty leaned his head back into Rick’s shoulder, giving Rick the space to think without anyone watching. Morty sounded casual when he murmured, “I could get used to a place like that,” lazily into Rick’s shirt.

With his ear pressed to Rick’s chest, he faintly heard Rick’s heartbeat quicken for two pumps before it resumed its steady – likely artificially enhanced – pace. “Really?” Rick lowered the arm covering his eyes, sweeping imaginary bangs off Morty’s forehead. The familiar curve of humor and condescension lilting Rick’s voice raced a spike of relief down Morty’s spine. “I thought for sure you’d be trying to convince me _The Citadel_ would be a good place to settle down.”

Morty scoffed. “Hardly.” Morty manually forced his grip on Rick’s shirt to relax finger by finger, stretching out his cuffed wrist and turning it to examine the buckle. “One Rick is – I’ve got enough trouble with just you.”

“I could say the same thing about you…” Rick wrapped his fingers around the hovering forearm and pressed it down onto his chest, Morty’s hand automatically smoothing Rick’s tie. Rick shrugged a bit below him. “Byloptia isn’t bad. A bit of a problem with acid rain in the winter though.”

“Oh,” Morty frowned, “that could be a problem. Maybe we’ll be snowbirds then, you’re getting to be about that age. I always kind of thought New Mexico looked neat.”

“New Mexico?” Rick parroted back in disbelief and Morty pouted. “ _New Mexico?!_ What, do you want to start cooking meth or something?”

“No I just-”

“There is _nothing_ worthwhile about New Mexico. Trust me, Morty. Besides, I already got it all figured out. There’s this little asteroid on the other side of Kornephorus I’ve been terraforming. Private, completely unknown, and the only _other_ place in the galaxy that is a natural source of corzonite. We tap into that supply, set up a processing plant and bam, we’re rolling in money and uppers.”

Morty shifted to glare down at his grandpa. “And how is that any different than starting a meth lab?”

Rick rolled his eyes and dragged him back into the one-armed hug. “It’s not a _garbage_ drug for one, Morty, god, get your head out of your ass.”

“My – I don’t have my head up my ass. I’m not gonna skip college to be a _drug dealer_ with you, Rick,” the thought slipped out before Morty had thought it through and he tensed, aware of his mistake. But the slow, mellow smiled that unexpectedly melted ten years off Rick’s face and set Morty’s heart aching tried it’s hardest to break him anyways. Morty squinted his eyes until he saw colors dance against his eyelids and struggled to shut off his feelings, to close himself off from the empathy that warped him to the perfect shape to fill the hole of his grandpa’s lonliness.

But Rick sank his fingers into Morty’s hair and unexpectedly ducked a little to press a wet kiss to Morty’s forehead and that was it. Morty was condemned. “That’s an awfully planetary mindset,” Rick chided. 

With a flat glare that took all of Morty’s mental fortitude, he sat up and started pawing at the buckles closing the collar around his neck. Rick slapped his hands away and sat up with a groan, his back popping in two places. “Yeah, I’m – I’m _real_ burdened by my earthly ideals,” Morty snapped sarcastically, holding up a cuffed wrist. “Now are you gonna take these off and get us home or do you want to explain exactly how open minded we are to mom?”

Rick raised one half of his eyebrow and burped leaving Morty to question every decision he’d made over the last four years, but Rick’s nimble fingers unbuckled the cuffs, then the collar, and Morty rolled his head around on his shoulders in all the ways he hadn’t been able to and had deeply come to miss. Rick watched him, eyes swiping down over his hickey dusted chest and yanking his ankles out from underneath him to unbuckle those cuffs too. 

“Wanna stop and get some breakfast on the way back?” Rick asked, checking his watch and gathering up all the loose leather scattered around the clearing, springing to his feet and chucking them blindly into the open passenger side door. “I know a place that serves an omelet so good you will literally cry. Before you ask, you’re already late for your test.” Rick was wearing a smirk like a fucking gold medal and Morty warred with an urge to scream. “May as well skip it anyways, you don’t need it to graduate, and I don’t really see what _graduating high school_ is going to do for you anyways...”

Morty released his tension in a shaky exhale while staring at the dirtied, slightly torn suit jacket his bare ass was half wrapped in. Fucking shame, really. Morty had really like Rick in this suit. 

Just like it was a shame Morty would probably never make it to college. 

He told himself firmlythat it wasn’t like he _really_ wanted to go to four more years of school. He had wanted to get away from Rick. But that was off the table now so… well, Morties were good at adapting...

Morty stood and shook the dirt off Rick’s jacket as best he could, sliding his other arm through the sleeve and stomping barefoot to the car.

“Fine, but you - you’re buying me breakfast.” He conceded with a sigh, folding into the ship and shimmying into the boxers Rick handed him with a raised eyebrow. “But graduating – there’s no – we aren’t having a _discussion_ about me graduating, okay? I’m just doing it. It’s only a few more months anyways. And no tricks! No – No all-night sex club visits when I’ve got to go to class.”

Rick chuckled, resting his hands on the top ledge of the door and leaning over Morty with a Cheshire grin. “Oh, so those are fine as long as you don’t have school in the morning?”

Morty felt his cheeks warm and he pouted, glaring at Rick when he answered, “That might – I would be… open… to having a discussion about _that_.”

Rick’s eyebrow shot all the way up to his hairline before the clearing filled with rich deep laughter that Morty pointedly ignored.

**Author's Note:**

> what am i doing with my life?


End file.
